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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



THE CITY 



A MODERN PLAY OF AMERICAN LIFE 
IN THREE ACTS 



BY 



CLYDE FITCH 



NON-REFERT 




awVAD ' OBS 



BOSTON 

LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 

1915 



1^6 1^1"^ 



c^ 



^^ 



.^ 



Copyright, 1915, 

By little, brown, AND COMPANY, 

AND ALICE M. FITCH. 



This play is fully protected by the copyright law, all requirements 
of which have been complied with. In its present printed form it is 
dedicated to the reading public only, and no performance of it, either 
professional or amateur, may be given without the written permission 
of the owner of the acting rights, who may be addressed in care of the 
publishers, Little, Brown, and Company. 




G)GI.A420437 









THE CITY 



ACT I. MiDDLEBURG, New York. T/ie Library in the 
Rand House. 

ACT II. New York City. The Library in the Rand 
House. 

Several Years Later. 

ACT III. The Same. 

A Few Hours Later, 



THE PERSONS IN THE PLAY 



George D. Rand. 

George D. Rand, Jr. 

Mrs. Rand. 

Teresa Rand, 

Cicely Rand. 

Albert F. Vorhees. 

Eleanor Vorhees. 

George Frederick Hannock. 

Donald Van Vranken. 

Susan. Maidservant in Middleburg. 

John. The coachman in Middleburg, 

Foot. Butler in New York. 



Originally produced at the Lyric Theatre, New 
York, December 22, 1909, with the following 
cast : 

George D. Rand . , A. H. Stuart 

George D. Rand, Jr Walter Hampden 

Mrs. Rand Eva Vincent 

Teresa Rand Lucile Watson 

Cicely Rand Mary Nash 

Albert F. Vorhees George Howell 

Eleanor Vorhees Helen Holmes 

George Frederick Hannock Tully Marshall 

Donald Van Vranken Edward Emery 

Susan Jane Gail 

John John Jex 

Foot Fred Courtenay 



ACT I 

Scene : At the Rands'. The library of a substan- 
tial house in Middleburg. Front doors open 
out into the "front hall^ It is furnished in a 
" seV^ of rosewood furniture, upholstered in 
brown and red figured velvet. The walls are 
covered with dark maroon wall-paper, with 
framed photographs of Thorwaldsen's "Four 
Seasons,'^ and over the mantel there is an en- 
graving of "Washington Crossing the Delaware.^' 
A rocking-chair and an armchair are in front 
of the grate fire. Lace curtains and heavy cur- 
tains are draped back from two French windows 
that look out on a covered piazza. There are a 
desk, a bookcase with glass doors, a "centre 

4SI 



452 THE CITY 

table" on which stands a double, green-shaded 
''Studenfs lamp,'' a few novels, and some maga- 
zines. Near the bookcase is a stand holding a 
''Rogers' Group." There are jars and bowls 
filled with flowers everywhere. 
Rand enters with the New York evening papers, 
The Post, The Sun; he half yawns, half 
sighs with fatigue. He starts to make his arm- 
chair ready before the fire; stops and goes over to 
his desk, where he finds a letter which he dislikes, 
recognizing the handwriting. 
Rand. [Angry.] Yes, still keeping it up, 
the young blackguard ! 

[He tears the letter in two, and throws it into the 
fire without reading it. He watches it burn 
a second, lighting a cigar; then takes his 
papers, makes himself comfortable in his 
chair before the fire, and starts to read. 



THE CITY 453 

After a second, Mrs. Rand and Cicely, 

a very pretty girl of about seventeen, enter. 

Mrs. Rand carries a pitcher of water, 

scissors, and a newspaper. Cicely has her 

arms full of yellow tulips and a big bowl. 

Mrs. Rand. Why, father ! Aren't you home 

early? Teresa's train won't be in for an hour or 

so yet. 

[Mrs. Rand, filling the bowl with water, spreads 

the newspaper on the table; then cuts of the 

stems, and hands the flowers one by one to 

Cicely, who arranges them. 

Rand. I felt tired to-day, Molly. My head 

bothers me ! 

Mrs. Rand. [Going to him with affection and 
solicitude.] Why don't you lie down? [She lays 
her hand on his head.] You haven't any fever. 
[She kisses his forehead.] You're just over- 



454 THE CITY 

tired ! [He pats her hand ajfcctionately, and holds 
it.] When are you going to give up business 
entirely, darling, and leave it all to George? 

Rand. Never, I'm afraid, dear. [Letting go 
her hand.] I've tried to face the idea, but the 
idleness appalls me. 

Cicely. Mother, have you the scissors? 

Mrs. Rand. Yes, dear. 

[Joins her, and continues with the flowers. 

Rand. Besides, George is too restless, too dis- 
contented yet, for me to trust him with my two 
banks ! He's got the New York bee in his bonnet. 

Cicely. [Glances at her mother before she 
speaks.] Oh ! We all have that, father, — 
except you. 

Rand. And mother ! 

Cicely. Humph ! Mother's just as bad as 
the rest of us. Only she's afraid to say so. 



THE CITY 455 

[Smiling.] Go on, mother, own up you've got 
villiageitis and cityphobia ! 

Mrs. Rand. [Smiling.] I dare, only I don't 
want to bother your father ! 

Rand. That's the effect of George, — and 
Teresa. I've noticed all the innuendos in her 
letters home. Europe's spoiled the girl ! The 
New York school started the idea, but I hoped 
travel would cure her, and instead — ! 

Mrs. Rand. Wait till you see her. Remem- 
ber, in spite of letters, what a year may have 
done for her. Oh, I'm so eager to see her ! What 
a long hour this is ! 

[The telephone bell rings out in the hall. Mrs. 
Rand goes out and is heard saying, ''Hello! 
Yes, who is it ? Oh, is it you, Katherine ? " 

Rand. [Reading his paper.] Who's that talk- 
ing to your mother? 



456 THE CITY 

Cicely. One of Middleburg's Social Queens, 
Mrs. Mulholland — known in our society as the 
lady who can wear a decollete gown, cut in 
accordance with the Middleburg limit, and not 
look as if she'd dressed in a hurry and forgotten 
her collar ! 

[Rand laughs. 

Mrs. Rand. [Of stage.] Really! I should 
think she was much too old to be so advanced 
in the styles as that ! 

Cicely. The flowers are lovely all over the 
house. Father, you ought to see them ! They 
came from a New York florist. [Mrs. Rand of 
stage: "Good-by. See you at five."] Our man 
here hadn't anything but ferns and aniline-dyed 
pinks. 

Mrs. Rand. [Reenters.] Kate Mulholland 
called up to tell me Mary Carterson's mother-in- 



THE CITY 457 

law is visiting her from South Norwalk, and went 
down street this niorning wearing one of those 
new washtub hats, — and she's sixty, if she 
isn't over! She was born in 1846, — at least 
she used to be ! 

Rand. [Still reading.] When do you expect 
your crowd to come this afternoon? 

Cicely. Crowd? [She laughs derisively.] 
The only thing that can get a crowd in Middle- 
burg is a fire or a funeral 1 

Mrs. Rand. As we expect Teresa at four, 
I asked everybody to come in at five. But you 
know, father, ''everybody'' in Middleburg isn't 
many ! 

Cicely. Not many — nor much ! 
Rand. You have the best the town affords, 
and it's good old stock ! 

Cicely. I'm afraid Tess'll think it's rather 



458 THE CITY 

tame for a girl who has been presented at two 
European courts ! 

Mrs. Rand. Yes, I'm afraid she'll find it 
awfully dull. Don't you think, father, we could 
go to New York, if only for the winter months? 

Rand. Don't tell me you're ambitious, too? 

Mrs. Rand. Well, I've done all, in a social 
way, a woman can in Middleburg, and I want 
to do more. 

Cicely. You can't tell the difference in 
Middleburg between a smart afternoon tea and 
a Mother's Meeting, or a Sunday-school teacher's 
conclave, or a Lenten Sewing Circle, or a Fair for 
the Orphan Asylum, or any other like "Event" ! 
It's always the same old people and the same old 
thing ! Oh, Lord, we live in a cemetery ! 

Rand. Molly, wouldn't you rather be it in 
Middleburg — than nit in the City ? 



THE CITY 459 

Mrs. Rand. But with your influence and our 
friends, — we'd take letters, — I would soon 
have the position your -^lio. was entitled to in the 
City, too. 

Cicely. I don't care a darn about the posi- 
tion, if I can only have something to do, and 
son^ething to see ! Who wants to smell new- 
mown hay, if he can breathe in gasolene on Fifth 
Avenue instead ! Think of the theatres ! the 
crowds ! Think of being able to go out on the 
street and see some one you didnH know even by 
sight ! ! 

Rand. [Laughs, amused.] Molly ! How can 
you deceive yourself? A banker from a small 
country town would give you about as much posi- 
tion as he could afford to pay for on the West 
Side, above Fifty-ninth Street. 

Mrs. Rand. But, George said you'd been 



46o THE CITY 

asked to join a big corporation in New York, 
which would make the family's everlasting for- 
tune, and social position beside. 

Rand. [Looks up, angry.] George had no 
right telling you that. I told him only in con- 
fidence. What is this anyway, — a family con- 
spiracy ? 

Cicely. No, it is the American legation shut 
up in Peking, longing for a chance to escape 
from social starvation. 

Rand. [Thoroughly irritated.] Now listen! 
This has got to stop, once and for all ! So long 
as I'm the head of this family, it's going to keep 
ifs head and not lose it ! And our home is here, 
and will be here, if to hold it I have to die in 
harness. 

Mrs. Rand. [Going to him a^ectionately .] 
Father, don't be angry ! You know your will is 



THE CITY . 461 

law with all of us. And so long as you want it, 
we'll stay right here. 

Cicely. Giving teas to the wallflower brigade, 
and dinners to the Bible class! And our cotil- 
lion favors will be articles appropriate for the 
missionaries' boxes ! Oh, Lord ! 

Rand. Mother, Cicely has convinced me of 
one thing. 

Cicely. [Delighted.] Not really! Good! 
What? 

Rand. You go to no finishing school in New 
York ! You get finished all you're going to, right 
here in Middleburg. New York would com- 
pletely turn your head ! 

Cicely. Well, don't w^orry; Middleburg 
will ''finish'' me all right! Good and strong! 
Maybe New York would turn your head, but 
Middleburg turns my — 



462 THE CITY 

[She is going to say ^^ stomach, ^^ hut her mother 
interrupts. 

Mrs. Rand. Cicely! 

[Enter George. He is a handsome, clean-cut 
young American, of about twenty-seven, 

George. Hello, everybody ! 

Rand. [Surprised.] Hello, George ! What's 
the matter ? It's only half past four ! Noth- 
ing happened in the office? 

George. Nothing! All day ! That's why I 
am here. I thought I'd be in good time for 
Tess ; and, so far as missing anything really doing 
in the office is concerned, I could have left at ten 
this morning — [adds half aside] or almost 
any morning, in this — our city ! 

Cicely. Look out! The word ^' city'' is a 
red rag to a bull with father, to-day ! And it's 
for good in the graveyard ! I'm going to dress. 



THE CITY 463 

Thank the Lord, I've actually got somebody new 
to look smart for, if it's only my sister ! 

[Yawns and starts to go. 

Rand. Who's coming to your tea party ? 

Cicely. [As she goes out. \ All the names are on 
the tombstones in the two churchyards, plus Miss 
Carterson's mother-in-law from South Norwalk ! 

Mrs. Rand. I must dress, too. [Going over 
to Rand.] Dear, aren't you going to change your 
coat, and help me? 

Rand. Oh, Molly, don't ask me to bore my- 
self with your old frumps ! 

Mrs. Rand. I have to! And I don't know that 
I take any more interest than you do in what sort 
of a hat Mary Carterson's mother is w^earing ! 
But if it were in New York — 

Rand. [Sneers.] Stop ! I meant what I said 
— let's drop that ! 



464 THE CITY 

Mrs. Rand. All right, — I didn't say any- 
thing ! 

George. Look here, father, — mother's right. 

Rand. [Interrupting.] No, you do the "look- 
ing,'' George, — and straight w w}' eyes! [He 
does so.] Your mother's wrong, but it isn't her 
fault, — it's you children. 

Mrs. Rand. [Remonstrating.] Now, father — 

George. But we're not children, and that's 
the mistake you make ! Pm twenty-seven. 

Mrs. Rand. Yes, father, you forget, — 
George is twenty-seven ! 

George. I'm no longer a boy I 

Rand. Then why did you tell your mother 
about this offer I had from New York, when I 
told you it was absolutely confidential I And a 
man in business knows what the word "confi- 
dential'' means. 



THE CITY 46s 

Mrs. Rand. It was my fault; / wormed it 
out of George ! 

George. Nonsense, mother ! [To his father.] 
I told, because I thought you needed a good, big 
hump, and I believed, if all of us put our shoulders 
to it, we could move you. 

Rand. Out of Middleburg? 

George. Yes ! 

Rand. Into New York? 

George. Yes ! 

Rand. Listen, George, — 

George. [Going on.] What position is there 
for a fellow like me in a hole like this ? 

[Rand tries to interrupt, 

Mrs. Rand. [Stops him.] No, father, let 
George have his say out ! 

Rand. All right ! Come on, George, we'll 
have it out now, — but this must settle it I 



466 THE CITY 

George. You grew up with this town. You 
and Middleburg reached your prime together, 

— so she's good enough for you. Besides, you 
are part oj it, so you haven't any point of view, 

— you're too close ! 

Rand. What's good enough for your father 
ought to be good enough for you. 

Mrs. Rand. That's true, George. 

George. Grandfather Rand was a real estate 
dealer in East Middleburg, with an income of 
about two thousand a year. I notice your 
father^ s limit wasn't good enough for you ! 

Rand. No, but my father turned me loose, 
without a cent, to make my own way ! Your 
father will leave you the richest man in your town^ 

— with the best established name, with two banks 
as safe as Gibraltar behind you ! 

George. But, I tell you, Middleburg and her 



THE CITY 467 

banks are just as picayune to me, in comparison 
with the City and a big career there, as East 
Middleburg and real estate were to you in 1S60! 

Rand. Good God, how Httle you know of the 
struggle and fight / went through ! 

George. No, sir ! Good God — 

Rand. [Interrupting.] Don't swear before 
your father. I don't Uke it ! 

George. Well, — what you don't realize is 
that / am just starving after a big fight and a big 
struggle — for even bigger stakes than you 
fought for ! I'm my father's own son — [Going 
up to him with a sudden impulse of pride and 
affection, and putting his arm about his shoulder.] 
Accept this great city chance, father! There's 
miUions in it, and no fight ! They're offering the 
position to you on a gold plate. All I'll ask of 
you afterward is to launch me. Give me a 



468 THE CITY 

start ; the rest will be up to me ! All I'll ask you 
to do then is watch. 

Rand. No, I'm too old now. 

Mrs. Rand. Now / must join in ! It's ridic- 
ulous you calling yourself too old. Besides, it 
reflects on me ! [Smiling.] Men and women 
of our age in the City dress and act just as young 
as their children, more or less. Old age has gone 
out of fashion ! There's no such thing, except 
in dull little country towns ! 

George. Exactly! That's just what stagna- 
tion in the small place does for you. Come to the 
City, father ! It'll give you a new lease of life1 

Rand. No, I donH want to! 

George. I wouldn't have the selfish courage 
to go on persuading you, if I didn't feel you'd be 
glad of it in the end. And besides, you're one 
against all the rest of us, — Mother, Teresa, 



THE CITY 469 

Cicely — we're all choking here, dying of exas- 
peration, dry-rotting for not enough to do I 

Rand. Not at all ! It's only amusement and 
excitement you children are after, and you've 
inoculated your mother with the germ. 

Mrs. Rand. No! If I'm restless and dis- 
satisfied here, it's my own fault. I sympathize 
with Teresa having to come back to this, after 
New York and all Europe. I'm tired, myself, 
of our humdrum, empty existence. I'm tired of 
being the leading woman in a society where 
there's nobody to lead ! I'm tired of the nar- 
row point of view here ! I'm tired of living 
to-day on yesterday's news, and wearing styles 
adapted to what Middleburg will stand for ! I 
sympathize with Cicely. I want her to have a 
chance with the real world — not our expur- 
gated edition ! I know what she means when 



470 THE CITY 

she says the quiet of the country gets on her 
nerves ! that the birds keep her awake ! that 
she longs for the rest of a cable-car and the 
lullaby of a motor-bus ! Yes, I want the City 
for myself, but even more for my children, and 
most of all for George to make a name and 
career for himself ! 

Rand. You've all got an exaggerated idea of 
the importance of the City. This country 
isn't made or run by New York or its half dozen 
sisters ! It's in the smaller towns, — • and spread 
all over the country, — that you find the bone 
and sinew of the United States ! 

George. But for a young man to make a 
career for himself — I don't mean in business 
only, — in politics, in — 

Rand. [Interrupting.] You don't need the 
City! What's the matter with here? 



THE CITY 471 

George. Look at what Bert Vorhees has 
done, going to New York ! He's going to be 
District Attorney, they say. And how long 
has he been there ? Five or six years ! I had 
a long talk with Eleanor Vorhees when she was 
here last month ; it's wonderful what Bert's 
accomplished ! And look at Eleanor herself ! 
By George, she's the finest girl I've ever seen ! 

Rand. Still, did Lincoln need New^ York? 
Did Grant? Did a metropolis turn out Mc- 
Kinley, or have anything to do with forming the 
character and career of Grover Cleveland? 
You're cheating yourself, if you're honest in your 
talk with me ! All you want of the City is what 
you can get out of it, — not what you can do 
for it ! 

George. No, you judge from your own point 
of view ! Middleburg makes you look through 



472 THE CITY 

the wrong end of the opera-glass. You canH 
judge from my point of view. 

Rand. When you're my age, if you've kept as 
abreast of the times as I have, you'll be lucky. 
But if you're in New York, you won't have had 
time. There, you'll know one thing to perfec- 
tion — but only one — where your interests 
are centred ! All city men specialize — they 
have to get success, and keep it ! Every walk in 
life, there, is a marathon ! But the worst of it 
is, the goal isn't stationary. It's like the horizon, 
— no man can reach it ! 

George. But why blame the City? 

Rand. Because the City turns ambition into 
selfish greed ! There, no matter what you get, 
you w^ant more ! And when you've got more, 
at God knows what price sometimes, it's not 
enough ! There's no such thing as being satis- 



THE CITY 473 

fied ! First, you want to catch up with your 
neighbor ; then you want to pass him ; and then 
you die disappointed if you haven't left him out 
of sight ! 

Mrs. Rand. I'm afraid your father's deter- 
mined. And forty years w^ith him has taught 
me two things, — first, when he is determined, 
you might just as well realize it in the begin- 
ning; and second, in the end you're sure to 
he glad he was! 

Rand. Thank you, Molly. And I was never 
more determined than I am this time. 

Mrs. Rand. \With a sigh of half-amused 
resignation.] Then I'll go and put on the dress 
I got in New York, which the dressmaker said 
I'd made her spoil in order that my neighbors 
at home shouldn't say I'd gone out of my senses. 

[She exits. 



474 THE CITY 

George. Well, father, if yoii won't -leave, let 
me go away ! Let me go to the City on my 
own account. Bert Vorhees has been urging 
me to come for over a year. He says politics 
in the City are crying for just such new, clean 
men as me. He wants me to help him; that, in 
itself, is a big opening. I won't ask for any 
help from you. Just let me go, as your father 
let you go, to work out, myself, my own sal- 
vation ! 

Rand. Your own damnation it would be ! 
No, sir, you stay here as long as I live and have 
any power over or influence with you. 

George. Suppose Vm stubborn as you are, 
and go, even if it has to be against your will. 

Rand. Look here, boy ! You're trained in 
my methods, for my job. Those methods are 
all right for Middleburg, where I'm known and 



THE CITY 475 

respected. No one has been to this town more, 
in a civic way, than I have. The Park Street 
Congregational Church couldn't have been built, 
nor halfway supported as it has been, without 
my help ; and I could go on for some length, if 
I liked, in much the same sort of strain. What 
/ do in this town is right. But the public libra- 
ries of Middleburg wouldn't help me in the City, 
nor the Park Street Church be a sufficient 
guarantee for my banking methods, to let me 
risk myself in the hornet's nest New York is at 
present. 

George. [Almost laughing at the idea.] You 
don't mean you would be afraid of any investi- 
gation — ? 

Rand. Here, no ! I've always kept to the 
right side of the line, but I've kept very close, 
and the line may be drawn differently here. My 



476 THE CITY 

conscience is clear, George, but my common 
sense is a good watch-dog. 

[The Maidservant enters. 

Maidservant. Here's a man says he has 
an appointment with you, sir. 

Rand. [Startled and a little angry.] No one 
has an appointment with me ! 

Maidservant. Well, I didn't know! 

[Enter Hannock, during the speech. The 
Maidservant looks a little alarmed at what 
she has done, as she goes out. 

Hannock. [Very hard.] I told you, in the 
letter I sent here to-day, I was going to call this 
afternoon. 

Rand. I destroyed that letter without reading 
it, — as I have the last half dozen you've sent me. 

Hannock. That's what made it necessary for 
me to call in person ! 



THE CITY 477 

[George looks from one to the other, dum- 
founded. 

George. Father? 

Rand. [To Hannock, referring to George.] 
This is my son. I'm glad he is here, to be a 
witness. Go ahead ! I take it, as you seem to 
be in the business, you've made yourself ac- 
quainted with the law of blackmail! 

Hannock. I know what you've already told 
me — but I don't give a damn ! I've got noth- 
ing to lose, and nothing to get, e:^cept money, 
from you. You wonH jail me, anyway, for you 
know a trial here would ruin you, no matter what 
happened to me ! 

George. Here, you — ! 

Rand. [Taking a step forward.] No, George ! 
Keep your temper. This man says I ruined his 
mother — [In great shame and emotion. 



478 THE CITY 

George. [To Haxnock.] You liar ! 

IL\NNOCK. Then why did he give her a regu- 
lar allowance till she died? and why did he keep 
on giving to me ? — for a while ! 

R-\XD. George, I feel badly. Get me some 
whiskey and water. [George, hurries out. 
Rand, in rising anger:] I kept on giving to you, 
till I found out you were a sot and a -degenerate 
blackguard — a drug fiend and a moral criminal. 
I kept on helping you after three houses of cor- 
rection had handled you, and one prison ! Then 
I stopped ! WTiat was the use, — money was only 
helping you on I 

Hannock. Still, for my mother's sake, you 
can't let me starve! You oughtn't to have torn 
up those letters ; then you'd have had the black- 
mail in writing. I told you, if you didn't give 
me what I want, I'd print your letters to my 



THE CITY 479 

mother right here in this town. The anti-saloon 
paper, that hates you for not joining its move- 
ment, would be glad to get them and show you 
up for a God damn whited sepulchre ! 

Rand. [Quiet, controlling himself by a terrific 
efort.] And suppose that didn't frighten me ! 

Hannock. I've just got on to something bigger 
yet, I can use by way of a lever! The two 
years you had me working in the bank, I kept 
my eyes open. If it hadn't been for the yellow 
streak in me, I guess I'd have made a banker, 
all right. I liked it, and I seem to catch on to 
things sorter by instinct. You were the hig 
thing, and I watched and studied your methods 
to make 'em mine ! 

Rand. Well? 

Hannock. Yes! "Well," by God! I guess 
you realize just as plain as I do that those very 



48o THE CITY 

methods in New York, that have been raising 
hell with the insurance companies and all sorts 
of corporations, aren't a patch on some of your 
deals I know of ! And I tell you, if there should 
be a State investigation in Middleburg, you'd 
go under as sure as I stand here ; and if I had 
to go to prison, I'd stand a sure chance of passing 
you in the yard some day — wearing the same 
old stripes yourself. 

Rand. [In a paroxysm of rage.] It's a lie ! 
It's a lie ! Just to get money out of me ! I told 
you, before you began, you'd come to blackmail 1 

[He chokes. 

Hannock. Well, you know how to prove it ! 
Have me arrested ; charge me with it ; and 
let the whole thing he thrashed out I [A second'' s 
pause.] Aw — you don't dare. You know you 
don't ! 



THE CITY 481 

[Enter Cicely, looking girlishly lovely in a 

fresh white dress and corn-colored sash. 
Cicely. Father, aren't you going to dress — 
and help us? 

[Hannock looks at Cicely, admiring her. 
Rand. Excuse me, Cicely, I'm engaged just 
now. 

Cicely. I beg your pardon. 

[She goes out. 
Hannock. [Following her with his eyes.] She's 
growing into a lovely girl, your daughter ! It 
would be a pity — 

[He speaks in broken sentences. 
Rand. [Giving in.] How much do you want? 
Hannock. I want two thousand dollars. 
Rand. For how long? 
Hannock. For as long as it lasts! 
Rand. [With a reaction.] No, I won't do it ! 



482 THE CITY 

You'll gamble, or squander this in some low way, 
and be back before the week's out ! What's the 
use ! I can't keep this up for ever ! 

Hannock. [Bringing a pistol out of Ms pocket, 
quickly.] Do you see that? 

[He puts it on the desk. 

Rand. [Greatly frightened.] Good God ! 

Hannock. Don't be frightened ! It's not for 
you. I'm no murderer ! It's for myself. 

Rand. [Suffering from shock.] How do you 
mean? 

Hannock. [Taking up the pistol, and handling 
it almost affectionately.] I'm never without it. 
And when I can't get anything more out of you, 
when I'm clean empty, — not a crust, or drink, 
or drug to be had, — then I'll take this friend to 
my heart, so — 

[Placing pistol over his heart. 



THE CITY 483 

Rand. [Frightened, calls feebly:] George! 

Hannock. Oh, not yet ! [Taking pistol from 
Us chest.] I'm not ready yet. But remember, 
when you've signed your last check for me, you 
will he responsible for this. 

[He touches the pistol; then hides it quickly in his 
pocket, as George enters with whiskey and 
water. 

George. I'm sorry to take so long, but I had 
to persuade mother not to come with me, when 
she heard you were faint. And I thought you 
wouldn't want — 

Rand. Yes, quite right — 

[He drinks, excitedly, tremblingly, feebly. 

George. [To Hannock.] You can see my 
father is ill; surely, ordinary human feeling 
will make you realize to-day is no time for you 
to — 



484 THE CITY 

Rand. [Interrupting.] It's all right, George. 
Hannock and I have had it out while you were 
gone. [Writing a check.] We understand each 
other now ! 

Hannock. I've made my position quite clear 
to your father. 

Rand. [Giving Hannock the check.] Here — 
and for God's sake try to behave yourself ! [Look- 
ing at him intently, with a strange, almost yearning 
look, as if he really cared whether Hannock be- 
haved himself or not.] Try to do right ! 

Hannock. Thanks for your advice and money ! 
[To George.] Good-by! 

Rand. Good-by ! 

[George only nods his head, looking at Han- 
nock with unconcealed dislike. Hannock goes 
out. Rand sinks on his arms, his head falling 
on the table. George goes to him in alarm. 



THE CITY 48s 

George. Father ! 

Rand. I'm not ^Yell. I've felt dizzy all day. 
It was more than I could stand ! 

George. I don't approve of your giving him 
monev '. Till you once take a firm stand, there'll 
never be any let up. 

Rand. But I owe it to him, George ! I owe 
it to him. 

George. Nonsense! What sort of a woman 
was his mother ? 

Rand. She was a dressmaker in East Middle- 
burg; hadn't a very good reputation. I doubt 
verv much if what he says is true. 

George. Well then? 

Raxd. Yes, but more than he knows is true ! — 
and worse ! 

George. How do you mean ? 

Rand. Yes, the whole thing is more than I 



486 THE CITY 

can carry any longer ! I'm too old ! Your 
younger shoulders must help me bear it, George. 
It breaks my heart to tell you, and shames me, 
George, but I must unburden myself. Besides, 
I need help — I need advice ! And besides, 
you'll see how you can't go away and leave me 
alone here ! [He rises in fear and excitement. \ 
I'm your father, and you've got to stand by me 
and help me ! I can't stand alone any longer ! 

George. Father ! 

[He goes to him. 

Rand. Promise me, George, promise me you 
won't leave me here ! You'll stand by me ! 

George. Yes, father, I promise yon! 

Rand. [Sinks hack exhausted into his chair. 
A second^s pause.] That man who just left here 
don't know it, but — 

[He stops from dread and shame of finishing. 



THE CITY 487 

George. But what? 

Rand. I'm his father ! 

George. [Astounded.] Th3it fellow^ s? 

Rand. That fellow's ! 

George. Then of course he knows it ! 

Rand. No, it would be a stronger lever for 
money than any he has used, and he doesn't 
hesitate to use the strongest he can find — or 
invent ! In return for the financial arrangement 
I made with her, his mother swore he should 
never know. As a matter of fact, she was 
anxious, for her own sake, to keep it quiet. She 
moved to Massachusetts, passed herself off as a 
widow, and married a man named Hannock, 
there ; but he died, and so back she came, passing 
off this boy, here, as Hannock's son ! [He groans.] 
What a story for a father to own up to, before a 
son like you. [After a second^s pause. 



488 THE CITY 

George. Don't think of that ! DonH mind 
me! After all, I'm a twentieth cexviwry son, you 
know, and New York at heart ! 

Rand. Of course your mother's never dreamed. 
That I couldn't bear — 

George. That's right. Mother's not me, — 
she's nineteenth century and Middleburg ! 

Rand. Now, you see I do owe this young 
man something. I can't shut my eyes to it ! 

George. Yes. I'm even wondering, father, if 
you don't owe him — the truth! 

Rand. No, no, I couldn't trust him with it ! 

George. Still, father, don't you owe it to 
him? Even more than money! And don't you 
suppose he suspects it, anyway? 

Rand. No, and he mustnH know. He'd tell 
everybody ! It would be my ruin ; and your 
mother ? — break her heart, — and for what 
good ? 



THE CITY 489 

George. \With a sudden idea.] Father, why 
not come to the City and escape him? 

Rand. Escape him ! He'd follow ! That's his 
hunting ground ! When you came back home 
from college, I'd had him in the bank a couple 
of years. But I didn't want you two to meet, 
so I got him a good place in Boston. But in 
six months he'd lost it, and was mixed up in 
some scrape in New York ! No ! Remember, 
George, you gave me your promise you 
wouldn't leave me ! You'll stay with me here. 
We must take care of this man, of course, for 
our own sakes, as well as his. I am his father ! 

George. And I'm his brother, and Cicely and 
Tess are his sisters ! It's hard lines on him ! 
I can't help feeling, father, we owe him a good 
deal. 

Rand. You'll stand by me — so long as I 
live. [Excitedly.] Promise me solemnly ! 



490 THE CITY 

George. I have promised you, father. 

Rand. And, if anything should ever happen 
to me, you'd look after — Hannock, wouldn't 
you, George? 

George. Yes, father. I consider you — we 
— owe Hannock a future ! 

Rand. But you'll keep my secret — promise 
me that, too ! 

George. I give you my word of honor, father. 

Rand. {Halj collapses and sways.] I feel so 
badly again ! I — I'm going to my room to lie 
down. Don't let them disturb me till supper- 
time. [George goes to help Mm out. Rand 
smiles, though with an efort.] No, no ! I'm not 
so far gone as all that, — not yet a while, boy, 
not quite yet — ! [Goes out alone. 

George. [Coming hack.] Who'd have thought 
it ! Who^d have thought it ! Father ! 



THE CITY 491 

{A heavy jail is heard in the hall outside. 

George looks up, and then starts on, but stops 

and lifts his head suddenly to listen. A look 

of fright and dread is on his face. Then he 

turns to the door and walks into the hall. A 

moment after, off stage, he cries, "Father !" 

[The following scene takes place off stage. 

Mrs. Rand. [In a voice of excitement.] What 

was it? Father? Did he faint? [Calling.] 

James ! James, bring me water, quick ! 

George. I'll telephone for the doctor. I'll 
get Dr. Hull from across the street. He'll be the 
quickest. [Passes by the door from Left to Right. 
The telephone bell is heard. The Maidservant 
hurries past the door with water.] Hello. Give 
me sixteen — 

Mrs. Rand. [To Maidservant.] Is John 
in the kitchen having his supper ? 



492 THE CITY 

Maidservant. Yes, ma'am. 

George. Hello? 

Mrs. Rand. Tell him to come here to help 
us carry Mr. Rand into the parlor, and you come 
right back. 

Maidservant. Yes, ma'am. 

[She again goes hurriedly past the door from 
Left to Right, as George is talking. 

George. [At ^ phone, of stage.] Is that you, 
Dr. Hull? Can you come right over? Father 
— looks to me like a stroke ! Good-by. 

[Rings telephone hell, and passes before the door 
on his way from Right to Left. 

Mrs. Rand. I've sent for John. I thought 
between us we could carry him. [Maidservant 
passes through hall from Right to Left.] Susan, 
get . a pillow from upstairs, and put it on the 
sofa in the parlor, and send Miss Cicely. 



THE CITY 493 

Maidservant. Yes, ma'am. 

[Before doorway, John passes from Right to Left. 

George. Here, John ! Father's very ill. 
John, we want to get him on to the sofa in the 
parlor. 

Cicely. What's the matter? What is it, 
mother ? 

Mrs. Rand. We don't know ourselves, dear, 
but we're waiting for Dr. Hull. 

George. You hold his head up, mother. 
And John — that's right ! 

Mrs. Rand. Give me the pillowy Susan, — 
help me. 

George. Cicely, go into the library, close the 
door, and wait for me. As soon as the doctor 
comes — [Front doorbell rings outside. 

Mrs. Rand. There he is ! Susan, go to the 
door. 



494 THE CITY 

[Enter Cicely. She closes the door behind her, 
frightened, and leans against it, listening. 

Cicely. [Whispers.] He's dead, — I know it, 
— he's dead ! [She carefully opens the door on a 
crack to listen. She sees Maidservant.] Susan ! 
[Maidservant approaches in the hall beyond the 
half open door.] Was it the doctor? 

Maidservant. [In doorway.] Yes, Miss. 

Cicely. What did he say? 

Maidservant. I don't know. Miss. I didn't 
go in the room. 

John. [Appearing in the hall.] Susan! 

\Whispers. 

Cicely. What is it, John? What does the 
doctor say? 

John. [Embarrassed.] I — I — don't know, 
Miss. Mr. George'll tell you. He wants you, 
Susan, to telephone to his aunt, Mrs. Loring, 



THE CITY 495 

and ask her to have word 'phoned round to the 
guests for this afternoon not to come. You're 
to say Mr. Rand has been taken suddenly ill, 
and will she come over at once. 
Maidservant. All right. 

[She goes. 
Cicely. Poor papa! He isn't dead, then? 

[Susan is heard ringing the ^ phone. 
John. Mr. George'll tell you. 

[He goes of. 
Maidservant. Hello ! Give me thirty-one, 
please. 

[George comes into the room to Cicely. 
Cicely. How is he ? 
George. Cicely ! 
Cicely. [Frightened.] What? 
Maidservant. [Heard outside.] Is that Mrs. 
Loring, please — this is Susan — 



496 THE CITY 

[George shuts the hall door ; he puts his arm 
around Cicely. 

George. Cicely, father's dead. 

Cicely. Oh, George ! [Bursts into tears. 

George. [Putting his arms around her again.] 
Cicely, dear, don't cry, little girl ! Go upstairs 
to mother ; she wants you. And stay with her 
till Aunt Nellie comes — 

Cicely. [Crying.] Oh, poor mother, poor 
mother ! 

[Cicely goes out, leaving door open. 

Maidservant. [Of stage at the telephone.] 
Yes, ma'am. Good-by. 

George. Susan? 

Maidservant. [In the doorway.] Yes, sir ? 

George. If any strangers come to the door 
to ask questions, tell them nothing. Do you 
know Mr. Straker ? 



THE CITY 497 

Maidservant. No, sir. 

George. Well, he's on the evening newspaper 
here. He's sure to hear we've put off our little 
party, and come around to find out. If any one 
asks, never mind who, — you know nothing except 
that Mr. Rand was taken suddenly sick. That's 
all. You don't know how, or what it is. You 
understand ? 

Maidservant. Yes, sir. 

George. All right. [Nods to her to go. She 
goes out. He walks over to the desk and looks 
where his father sat and stood.] Why, it was 
only a minute ago he was there, talking with 
me ! It doesn't seem possible — that now — 
he's dead — dead — [he wipes the tears out of 
his eyes, and gives a long sigh; sinks in the scat] 
gone for good out of this life ! I don't under- 
stand it ! What does it all mean ? [He is star- 



498 THE CITY 

ing straight ahead oj him. Suddenly a thought 
comes to him and takes possession of him.] I 
know one thing it means for me ! — [He rises 
and stands straight.] It means New York. 
[There is a tapping on the glass of the window. 
He doesn't hear it at first. Tt is Teresa, outside, 
tapping. She taps again. He looks up and sees 
her.] Tess ! ! [He hurries to the window and 
opens it.] Tess ! 

[Embraces her enthusiastically. 

Teresa. I thought I'd stroll in and surprise 

you ! It's the same old room ! — [smiling around, 

as she recognizes things] not a thing changed ! 

— nor in the town, either, from the smelly old 
barn of a depot — past the same gay houses 
with the empty old iron urns, right up to ours, 

— bigger and uglier than all the rest ! Nothing's 
changed ! And oh, George, how can I live here ? 



THE CITY 499 

I'll never be able to stand it ! I can't do it ! 
I know I can't do it ! 

[Kisses him again. 

George. Tess ! You won't have to ! We're 
going to live in New York ! 

Teresa. George ! ! What do you mean ? 

George. We're going to live in the City ! 

Teresa. Oh, George ! You don't know how 
much that means to me ! I can be married in 
New York, then ! 

George. [Amazed,] Married ! 

Teresa. Sh ! That's my surprise ! Heavens, 
how hard it's been to keep it out of my letters ! 
I met him first in Egypt, and then he joined us 
at Nice, at Paris, and in London, and there he 
proposed. 

George. But who? 

Teresa. I just told you ! 



500 THE CITY 

George. [Smiling.] No, you didn't ! 

Teresa. Oh ! Donald Van Vranken. 

George. Don Van Vranken ? 

Teresa. Yes ! Think what my position will 
be in New York ! 

George. But Tess ! He's the fastest fellow 
going ! He's notorious ! Look at the scandals 
that have been more or less public property about 
him. It's the last one that drove him abroad, 
afraid of the witness bench ! 

Teresa. Oh, you can't believe everything 
you hear ! He's a handsome darling, and I 
love him, and he loves me, — so don't worry ! 

George. But I can't help worrying ! Your 
happiness isn't safe with a man like Don Van 
Vranken. 

Teresa. Oh, come, you haven't been away 
from Middleburg enough ! Here, maybe, the 



THE CITY SOI 

husbands do go to the altar Hke Easter hUes ! 
But in the City, you don't marry a man for what 
he has or hasn't been ; you marry him for what 
he is and what you hope he's going to be ! But 
I did dread a wedding here — with his people 
and friends ! How in the world did you per- 
suade father ? 

[A second's pause, as George suddenly comes 
hack with a terrific shock. 

George. Good God! I forgot! I've some 
awful news ! 

Teresa. Mother — ! 

George. No, — father. 

Teresa. What? — not— ? 

George. Yes. To-day, — just a little while 
ago ! Suddenly — in a second ! His heart gave 
out — I was talking with him two minutes 
before. 



502 THE CITY 

Teresa. Oh, poor mother! Where is she? 
Let me go to her ! 

George. She's up in her room. 

Teresa. Mother ! — [.4^ she goes out in 
great distress, she is heard again in the distance.] 
Mother ! ! 

George. [Stands where she left him — alone 
— his head bowed. He straightens up, and lifts 
his head; and his face flushes with the uncontrolled 
impulses of youth and ambition. With a voice 
of suppressed excitement, full of emotion, and 
with a trembling ring of triumph, he says:] The 
City . . . ! 

the curtain falls 



ACT II 

Scene: Several years later. The library in the 
Rands' house in New York. The walls are 
panelled in light walnut. Two French windows, 
with the sun shining in, are on the Left. There 
are small doors, Right and Left Centre, opening 
into other rooms. Between the bookcases, which 
occupy most of the wall space, are marble 
busts, standing in deep niches. There are 
flowers about. The sofa, chairs, hangings, and 
cushions are of golden yellow brocade, except 
one big armchair, upholstered in red, standing 
in front of the open wood fire. A Sargent 
portrait is built in over the mantel. A small 
typewriting table is at one side. Almost in 

503 



504 THE CITY 

the centre of the room, with chairs grouped near 
it, is a long carved table, with all the desk fittings 
of a luxurious hut busy man ; there is also 
a bunch of violets on it, in a silver goblet — and 
at present it is strewn with papers, etc. 

Foot is arranging the fire. There is a knock at 
the door. Hannock enters. He comes in, in 
evident and only partly suppressed, nervous excite- 
ment. He wears a white fiower in his buttonhole. 
Hannock. Hello, Foot. Is Mr. Rand out? 
Foot. Yes, sir. 

[Rises, having finished the fire. 
Hannock. He left no message for me? 
Foot. Yes, sir. He left some papers on the 

desk, which he said he'd like you to go over 

carefully, at once, and two letters he wanted 

you. to answer. 

Hannock. All right. Get me a package of 



THE CITY 505 

longish papers, with an elastic band around them, 
in my overcoat in the hall. 

Foot. Yes, sir. 

Hannock. Has the stenographer been here? 

Foot. Yes, but he's gone ; said he couldn't 
wait any longer, as he has an appointment. 

Hannock. [Angry; making nervous, irritable 
movements.] He'll be sorry ! I'll see to it he 
loses Mr. Rand's job, that's all, if he don't 
knuckle down to me ! 

Foot. Yes, sir. It's none of my business, 
but Mr. Rand didn't like your being late. He 
said you knew it w^as an important day for him, 
and he couldn't understand it. 

Hannock. He'll understand all right when I 
explain ! It's an important day for me too ! 

Foot. [Eagerly.] Is he going to get the nomi- 
nation for governor, sir ? 



5o6 THE CITY 

Hannock. Nothing surer ! — except his elec- 
tion. That'll be a knockout, and then you'll 
see us both forging ahead. 

Foot. I'm sure I wish you luck, sir. 
Hannock. Thanks ! Oh, yes, I shall tie my 
fortune up to Mr. Rand's! 
Foot. Yes, sir — 

[He goes out. 
Hannock. Yes, sir, [imitating Foot] — 
damned "important'^ day for me, too! Phew! 
[A great sigh, showing he is carrying something 
big on his mind.] I wonder just how he'll take 
it? I wish it was over. 

[He goes to the typewriting table, rummages in a 
drawer, takes out a little box, containing a 
hypodermic needle, and tries it;- then, putting 
it to his arm just above the wrist, he presses 
it, half grinning and mumbling to himself, — 



THE CITY 507 

looking furtively over his shoulder, fearing an 

interruption. Just as he finishes, the door 

opens. Cicely half comes in. She is in 

hat, gloves, etc. 

Cicely. [Half whispering.] You're back first. 

[He nods, hiding the hypodermic needle.] I've 

just this minute come in, and I didn't meet a 

soul. I've sent for Eleanor Vorhees — she's 

the best. 

[Enter Teresa hurriedly, in great and angry 

emotional excitement, pushing past Cicely. 
Teresa. Good morning, Cicely. Where's 
George ? 
Cicely. Give it up ! 

[Following her in. 

Hannock. He'll be in soon, Mrs. Van Vran- 

ken. He's an appointment with Mr. Vorhees. 

[Enter Foot. 



5o8 THE CITY 

Foot. I can't find any papers with an elastic 
band, sir. 

Hannock. [Irritated.] Oh, well, perhaps 
there wasn't a band ! Use your common sense ! 
I'll look myself. [To the ladies.] Excuse me. 

[Goes out, followed by Foot. 

Cicely. What's the matter with you, Tess? 
Don on the loose again? 

Teresa. I don't know and I don't care ! 
I've ieft him. 

Cicely. Left your husband ! — for good ? 
Honest ? Or has he left you ? 

Teresa. What do you mean by that? That's 
a nice thing for my sister to say ! 

Cicely. My dear ! — even donkeys — I 
mean sisters — have ears, — and you must know 
how every one has been talking about you and 
Jimmy Cairns ! 



THE CITY 509 

Teresa. Well, if I can't depend upon my own 
family, I don't suppose I can expect my husband 
to protect me. 

Cicely. After all, what can Don say? He 
can't find any fault with yon ! 

Teresa. Exactly ! — and I went to him, per- 
fectly calm and reasonable, and said very sweetly : 
*'Don, I'm going to divorce you. We needn't 
have any disagreeable feeling about it, or any 
scandal. I wall simply bring the divorce, men- 
tioning this woman" — 

Cicely. Mrs. Judly? 

Teresa. Of course — but doing it as quietly 
as possible, behind closed doors, or with sealed 
papers, or whatever they call it. Only, of 
course he must give me the children ! 

Cicely. Oh ! — and he refused ? 

Teresa. Absolutely refuses, — and to let me get 



Sio THE CITY 

the divorce as I propose ! He will only agree to 
a legal separation, the children's time to be 
divided between us. That's all he'll stand for. 

Cicely. Let him agree to what he likes ! 
You've got your case, all right. You could 
prove everything you want to, couldn't you? 

Teresa. [Getting angry.] Yes, but he — Oh, 
the beast ! — he dares to threaten ! If I attempt 
to do this, he'll bring a counter suit, mentioning 
Mr. Cairns ! 

Cicely. Tess ! 

Teresa. You see ! He ties my hands ! 

Cicely. But not if he couldn't — 

Teresa. Sh-h ! Let's talk about something 
else. I don't want that horrid Hannock to know 
anything. I despise him ! 

Cicely. [On the defensive.] I don't know 
why! 



THE CITY 511 

Teresa. Well, I'm not alone in my feelings. 
I don't know any one who likes him. 
Cicely. Yes, you do, because Fm one. 
Teresa. He always affects me like a person 
who would listen at keyholes ! 

Cicely. Some day you'll be very sorry you 
said that. [Hannock reenters. 

Hannock. Mr. Vorhees is here with Miss 
Vorhees. 

Cicely. I asked Eleanor to come. 

[She goes out to greet them. 
Teresa. [To Hannock.] Let me know the 
minute Mr. Rand comes in. 

[She goes out. Hannock takes up letters on 
desk which arc Jor him to answer, goes to the 
typewriting table, and sits down to write, 
reading over to himself one of the letters — 
mumbling the words. He laughs to himself. 



512 THE CITY 

Hannock. Ha ! And I suppose he thinks 
this is legitimate business ! — that this sort of a 
deal goes hand in hand with his '^ clean record," 
with his ''white poHtics," with the Vorhees 
"good government." Humph! "Teddy, Jr." 
is a good nickname for him, — I guess not ! The 
public would put George Rand in the Roosevelt 
class with a vengeance, wouldn't they ! — if 
they were on to this one piece of manipulation ! 
Following in father's footsteps, all right, and 
going popper one better ! That's what ! And 
he pretends to think his methods are on the level ! 
All the same, I guess he is just as square as the 
rest of 'em. You can't tell me Vorhees isn't 
feathering his nest good ! You bet I'm on to 
Vorhees! [He looks up, half startled.] Damn 
it, when am I going to stop talking in my sleep 
when I'm wide awake? [Looking at the place 



THE CITY 513 

on his arm, and smoothing it over.] Too much of 
the needle, I guess ! 

[Enter Servant with Vorhees. Servant 
goes out. 

Vorhees. Good morning, Hannock. 

Hannock. Good morning, Mr. Vorhees. 
You're ten minutes early for your appointment, 
sir. 

Vorhees. Mr. Rand is generally ready ahead 
of time. I thought I'd probably find him. 

Hannock. He isn't here yet. I hope he gets 
the nomination for governor ! 

Vorhees. Well, I'm inclined to think it's all 
up to him now, Hannock, and that to-day will 
decide. 

Hannock. Isn't it wonderful how far he's got 
in barely five years ! ■ 

Vorhees. Well, it was Rand's good luck — 



514 THE CITY 

to come along at the right psychological moment 
— the party tired of the political gambler, the 
manipulator. We wanted a candidate with just 
the freshness, the force and stability of a small 
town's bringing up. The whole of Middleburg, 
no matter what the party, will come forward 
unanimously, and speak for their young fellow 
townsman. His family is the boast of the place ! 
His father's name stands for everything that's 
best and finest in public and private life, and, 
when George took hold in New York, with all 
the political vitality and straightforward vigor 
of his blood and bringing up, and not only helped 
along our reforms, but created new ones of his own, 
giving his time and his strength and his money 
to the public good ! Well, you know what the 
man in the street's been calling him for a year 
now? 



THE CITY SIS 

Hannock. [With a covert sneer] "Teddy, Jr.!'' 

VoRHEES. Yes, "Teddy, Jr." That idea ought 
to land him in Albany, all right ! 

Hannock. [With the bare suggestion of a bully's 
manner.] I hope, Mr. Vorhees, I haven't been 
altogether overlooked in all the enthusiasm. 

Vorhees. [With a big drop.] How do you 
mean? 

Hannock. Well, I've been George Rand's 
right hand, you know ! I've done my share of 
the work. Where do I come in on the reward 
end? 

Vorhees. [Strongly.] I really don't under- 
stand you. 

Hannock. [Smiling, but serious and deter- 
mined, and speaking deliberately.] What do I 
get out of it ? 

Vorhees. [AJter a pause.] You get a damned 



5i6 THE CITY 

lot of pride in the man you've had the honor of 
serving, that's what you get ! 

Hannock. [Angry at the snub, and suspicious 
that he is to be thrown down.] And a hell of a 
lot of goad that'd do me ! Look here, Mr. 
Vorhees, I might as well have my say out now ! 
If George Rand wants to be elected Governor of 
New York, he and his electors have got to square 
me ! 

Vorhees. Why, you talk like a fool — or a 
scoundrel ! 

Hannock. Well, never mind what I talk like; 
I know what I'm talking about, and I say there's 
something good in the way of a job coming to 
his confidential secretary out of ''Gov.'' Rand's 
election ! 

[Vorhees half laughs, half sneers, but still is 
slightly disturbed. George enters. 

George. Hello! Am I late? Sorry! 



THE CITY 517 

VoRHEES. No, I'm early. Well ! ! Can we 
have our talk? 

George. [Smiling at himself.] I believe I'm 
nervous ! Go ahead ! Fire your first gun ! 

[Takes a chair. Hannock also sits. 

VoRHEES. [With a glance toward Hannock.] 
I'll wait, if you have any business to discuss with 
Mr. Hannock. 

George. No, nothing in a hurry; that's all 
right, go on — 

VoRHEES. Well, if you don't mind, I'd like 
to talk wdth you privately. 

George. Certainly. Would you mind, Han- 
nock, waiting in — 

VoRHEES. [Interrupting ; to Hannock.] Elea- 
nor's in the drawing-room. Cicely sent for her ; 
wants her advice, I believe, about something 
or other, very important I 

[Guying the latter with a smile. 



5i8 THE CITY 

George. Well, suppose you go to my room, 
Hannock, and use the desk there. 

Hannock. [In a hard voice, reluctant to leave 
them.] Very good. 

[Rises J takes papers, and starts to go. 

VoRHEES. \With the tone of a final good-by.] 
Good morning, Hannock. 

Hannock. Good morning, sir. [Stops at the 
door.] If I wanted to speak with you later on 
to-day, after I've had a talk with Mr. Rand, 
could I call you up on the 'phone, and make an 
appointment ? 

VoRHEES. Certainly. 

Hannock. [In a satisfied voice.] Thank you. 

[Goes out. 

George. Well? 

VoRHEES. How do you /ee/.? Eager, eh? 

George. That depends on what I'm going to 



I 



THE CITY 519 

get ! I'm eager, all right, if you've come to tell 
me what I want to hear ! ! 

VoRHEES. You're warm, as the children say! 

George. What wouldn't I give — that was 
honest to give — for this chance, not just to 
talk, not to hoastj not to promise, only — 

VoRHEES. [Interrupting him.] Exactly! That's 
exactly what we want — the man behind the 
gun in front of the gun I We don't want a 
Fourth of July orator only, in the Capitol ! We 
want a man who'll be doing something, George ! 

George. [Enthusiastically.] Every minute ! ! 

VoRHEES. We can hire a human phonograph 
to do the talking. The party's full of them ! 

George. I want to make my name mean, in 
this whole country, what father's meant in that 
small, up-State town we came from ! ! 

VoRHEES. Your name can take care of itself. 



520 THE CITY 

Don't think of any glory you're going to get ! 
You'll get most by keeping busy for the good of 
the State, for the welfare of the people — 

George. [Eagerly, not waiting for Vorhees to 
finish.] I know ! But I'm going to show the 
gods and the demigods, the rabble and the riff- 
raff, that one good lesson we've learned from the 
success of the last administration is that the real 
leader of a party must be its independent choice, 
and not its tool. 

Vorhees. [Approving.] Right ! 

George. Machine politics are a hack number. 
The public has got on to the engine, and smashed 
the works ! 

Vorhees. Man is greater than a machine, 
because God's soul is in him. 

George. Yes, and what I'm going to show is 
that the soul of a political party is the uncom- 
promising honesty of its leader. 



THE CITY 521 

VoRHEES. Don't always be emphasizing the 
leader ; — let it go at the party^s honesty ! 
You're inclined, George, to over-emphasize the 
personal side of it ! It's E Pluribus Unum, not 
E Pluribus mc-um ! 

George. All right, all right ! Only, don't 
forget that I've got an inordinate ambition, and 
you're dangling in front of my eyes the talisman 
that may land me, God knows how high! 

VoRHEES. Well, come back to earth! Now^, 
I've come here with the nomination in one 
hand — 

[George draws a long, excited breath. 

George. And a string in the other? 

VoRHEES. Yes. 

George. Well, give it to us ! 

VoRHEES. The Committee decided it was up 
to me ! I've known you as a boy. You're going 
to marry my sister. We're brothers practically. 



522 THE CITY 

I can speak frankly, without giving any offence — 
that's sure, isn't it? 

George. Nothing surer ! 

VoRHEES. It's just this ! Of course the min- 
ute you're nominated, our political opponents 
will get busy ! The muckrakes are all ready ! 

George. You bet they are, and the search- 
lights haven't any Foolish Virgins in charge of 
them. They're trimmed, all right, and filled 
with gasoline ! 

VoRHEES. [Very seriously.] You can stand it, 
George ? 

George. I can. 

VoRHEES. You've got a wonderful popularity, 
and the Committee believes in you, but it wants 
your word confirming its confidences, — that's all. 

George. That's the least it can ask. 

VoRHEES. Is there anything in your life that 



THE CITY 523 

isn't absolutely above board, George ? No skele- 
ton in your heart, or your cupboard? It's safe 
for us to put you up ? You're sure not a particle 
of the mud they'll rake can stick? 

George. Not a particle. 

VoRHEES. Look back a little. Sometimes I 
think you're a little too cocksure of yourself. 
No man can be, absolutely, till he's been tried in 
the furnace, and you haven't been, yet. But 
we're getting the fires ready ! [Smiles.] You're 
all right at heart, I'm sure of it. Nobody in 
this world believes more in you than I do, — [again 
smiling] except, perhaps, you yourself. But 
there's nothing, nothing that could be ferreted 
out? You know they'll dig, and dig, and dig!! 

George. But I give you my word of honor, so 
help me God, I've never done a dishonest or 
dishonorable act, or an act — 



524 THE CITY 

VoRHEES. [Interrupting.] In business? 

George. [Hesitates just one moment.] You 
know what my father stood for, — and my busi- 
ness methods he taught me. I've gone ahead of 
him, of course, — gone on with the times, — but 
on the road father blazed for me ! I've not 
deviated from a single principle. 

VoRHEES. Good ! I know what George Rand, 
Sr., stood for in Middleburg ! That's good 
enough for me. And in your private life? Oh, 
this is just going through the form ; personally, 
I'd stake my life on your answer, and Eleanor's 
instinct would have kept her from loving you. 

George. I was brought up in a small town, in 
the old-fashioned family life that's almost ancient 
history in the bigger cities. I loved my father 
and my mother, and their affection meant every- 
thing to me. From their influence, I went 



THE CITY 525 

under Eleanor's. You needn't have one worry 
about my private life. 

VoRHEES. Of course I knew you were clean 
and above board, but different men have differ- 
ent ideas about some things. 

George. Listen, — I'm no little tin god ! I'm 
as full of faults as the next man, but I'm not 
afraid to own up my mistakes ; I'm not afraid 
to tell the truth to my own disadvantage ; I'm 
not afraid to stand or fall by my sincere convic- 
tion ! In a word, I'm game to be put to any test 
you or the party want to put me, and I'll stand 
straight as I know how, so long as there's a drop 
or a breath of life left in me ! 

VoRHEES. Then that's all ! And unofficially 
— unofficially — I can tell you, barring the 
unexpected accident, the nomination is yours ! 

[Holding out his handy he grips George's in his. 



526 THE CITY 

George. IsnH it great ? IV s wonderful ! Oh, 
God, if / can only do it big ! 

VoRHEES. You mean do it well ! 

George. [Taken aback only for a second.] Er 
— yes, of course — same thing ! — Do half I 
dream of and want to ! 

VoRHEES. [Smiling.] Well — I'm taking any 
bets ! ! 

George. I owe the whole business to you, you 
know, and / know it ! 

Vorhees. Nonsense ! With that overwhelm- 
ing ambition of yours ! Perhaps I taught you 
your primer of politics, your grammar of public 
life ; that's all — except that I'm a damned 
proud teacher ! ! ! 

[Enter Foot. 

Foot. Mr. Van Vranken must see you at 
once, sir, — says it's very urgent. 



THE CITY 527 

George. All right. 

VoRHEES. Say in two or three minutes. 

Foot. Yes, sir. 

{Goes out. 

VoRHEES. There is just one more thing be- 
fore I can go. 

George. What? 

VoRHEES. Nothing that really concerns you, 
though it may cause you some inconvenience. 
The Committee thinks you'd better get rid of 
your secretary. 

George. [Astounded.] Hannock? 

VoRHEES. Yes, — he's no good ! 

George. No good? 

VoRHEES. A damn rotten specimen. We've 
found out enough about him to make sure we 
don't want him mixed up with us in any way in 
the election. 



528 THE CITY 

George. You — you take me off my feet ! 

VoRHEES. If you want more detailed informa- 
tion, ask any detective with tenderloin experi- 
ence. 

George. I've never liked him. I can't say 
I've really trusted him. And yet I laid my 
prejudice to a personal source. 

VoRHEES. He's dishonest besides. You can't 
have him in a confidential position. You couldn't 
help getting tarred with some of his pitch ! 

George. But are you sure of what you say? 

VoRHEES. Sure ! Why, just now, here, he 
showed me the hoof of a blackmailer. 

George. [Looks up quickly.] At that again ! 

VoRHEES. How do you mean ''again"? 

George. Explain to me what you mean. 

VoRHEES. Oh, he didn't get far — we were 
interrupted ! He put out a feeler, which was 



THE CITY 529 

very like a demand, as to what he was going to 
get out of this election. 

George. [Carelessly, and not very loudly.] He 
needn't think Vm father ! 

VoRHEES. [Not understanding.] What's that? 

George. You leave Hannock to me. I'll 
take care of him ! 

VoRHEES. You'll ^wc^arge him? [A pause. 

George. No, — I can't. 

VoRHEES. [Astonished.] How do you mean, — 
''can't." 

George. I couldn't turn him out, if he insists 
on staying. 

VoRHEES. Why not ? 

George. [A short second's pause.] That I 
cannot tell you — 

Vorhees. Look here, George! What hold 
has this man got on you? 



530 THE CITY 

George. On me personally, none. But I owe 
him a certain duty, and in a way he could do 
harm to — 

VoRHEES. I thought you said you had no 
skeleton ? 

George. It isn't in my closet, but it concerns 
those that are nearest and dearest to me. 

VoRHEES. Then you must risk sacrificing them, 
if you want the position. 

George. I'd have to sacrifice a memory, too, 
— and I haven't the right ! 

VoRHEES. If I went to the Committee, and 
said to them, — Rand refuses to dismiss Hannock ; 
doesn't deny he may be a scoundrel; owns up, 
in fact, that his family is in some way in the 
man's power ; says he himself is not ; but still he 
doesn't dismiss him, — do you believe for a minute 
the Committee will go on with your nomination? 



THE CITY 531 

George. No ! For God's sake don't tell the 
Committee anything of the sort ! Perhaps I can 
handle Hannock — beg him off ! 

VoRHEES. I don't like the sound of that. 
There's one thing about you I'm afraid of, George. 
You're one of those men who think wrong means 
are justified by right ends ; — unsafe and dis- 
honest policy ! 

George. I tell you he can't hurt mCj George 
Rand — [after a second] ''Jr." 

VoRHEES. That don't do for the Committee. 
You can't handle mud and not — 

George. [Interrupting.] Very well, then if 
I can't buy him off, I will dismiss him ! And 
the others must face the music ! There's too 
much at stake for the future, to over-consider the 
past. 

Vorhees. All right ! 



532 THE CITY 

[Enter Van Vranken, excited and angry; 
perhaps he's had a little too much to drink. 

Van Vranken. Look here ! 

George. Good morning, Don. 

VoRHEES. Good morning. 

George. I'm very busy now. 

Van Vranken. [With a jeer.] I won't inter- 
rupt you long ! 

VoRHEES. Would you like me to hunt up 
Eleanor and Cicely, and come back later? 

Van Vranken. Oh, you might as well stop. 
You're as good as in the family, now. You'll 
be sure to be asked to put your oar in ! 

George. Sit down, Don, and cool off ! 

Van Vranken. I haven't time. I'm on the 
way to my lawyer ! I understand my wife's here. 
Has she talked with you? 

George. No. I've been busy with Vorhees. 



THE CITY 533 

Van Vranken. I know — the governorship ! 
Well, your sister'll put a spoke in that wheel, if 
you don't side with me ! 

George. What do you mean ? 

Van Vranken. She threatens to take my 
children from me by bringing a suit for divorce, 
— mentioning Nellie Jud — Mrs. Judly. 

George. Well, can you blame her? 

Van Vranken. It's a pity you haven't gone 
out, once in a while, into the society that bores 
you so, and kept your ears open. 

George. What for? 

Van Vranken. You'd have heard a whisper, 
or caught a look that would have kept you from 
being surprised at what I'm going to tell you. 

George. What? 

Van Vranken. If your sister starts a suit 
against me, bringing in Nellie's — Mrs. Judly's 



534 THE CITY 

— name, I'll bring a counter suit against her, 

naming Jim Cairns ! 

George. You drunken liar ! 

[Going Jar him. Vorhees holds George 
hack. 

Van Vranken. You didn't know I could win. 
I wouldn't put such a stumbling block in the way 
of my little daughter's happiness ! 

George. Liar ! ! 

[Struggles to free himself. 

Vorhees. No, George ! Even Pve heard . 
enough to wonder something of it hasn't come 
your way. 

Van Vranken. [Thickly, whiningly.] All I 
ask for is a noiseless, dignified separation, — 
that's all I want, and God, I want that bad ! 
Legal or not, as she wishes, — only she's got to 
agree to cut out Cairns. I give her this chance 



THE CITY 535 

for my little daughter's sake, — not for hers ! 
But in another day, maybe, it'll be too late. I 
get my children six months of the year, and she 
the other six. I ask no more than I give, — 
that's fair ! I'd like my complete freedom as 
well as she. So far as love goes, it's a pretty even 
thing between us ! And when the children are 
grown up, and settled in life, she can do what 
she damn pleases, and good luck to her ! 

VoRHEES. I've heard the gossip. Van Vranken, 
but you know enough of our world to realize half 
that gets about, gets about wrong. 

George. Granted Tess has been foolish. 
That's bad enough, God knows ! Still — I 
can't believe worse than that ! / grew up with 
her, — / know her ! 

Van Vranken. You knew her before she 
came to New York. She hadn't developed yet, 



536 THE CITY 

in that mudholo^ you all lived in ! There's no 
smoke without — 

George. Yes, there is ! There's a smolder- 
ing that never breaks into a flame ! And you 
know, Don, you've given every reason for Tess's 
heart to smolder, yes, and burn, too — though 
I don't believe it. While we're about it, let's 
finish the whole ugly business here, now. You're 
a drunkard, and your best friends are the most 
depraved crew in town, — a crowd that is used 
individually as markers to tally off each smart 
scandal that crops up. It never occurred to you, 
before you married Tess, that you would be faith- 
ful to her afterwards ; and you didn't disappoint 
yourself. 

Van Vranken. What right had she to be 
disappointed? I never made any bluff or pose, 
and you all fought the match ! She married me 
with her eyes open. 



THE CITY 537 

George. You had the glamour of the City 
about you. Tess was a real woman, full of good 
and bad ; she was ready to be what the man she 
loved would make of her. And, poor girl, she 
married you I 

VoRHEES. Well, all that's done. What about 
the present? Van Vranken is right in saying 
any divorce scandal would endanger your elec- 
tion. We might lose the entire Catholic vote, 
and the support of the anti-divorce party, — 
both of which we're banking on. And besides, 
one of the strongest planks of our platform is 
the Sanctity of the Home ! We're putting you 
up as the representative of the great section of 
the country which stands for the Purity of Family 
Life. We'd have to drop that platform, or be 
ridiculed off the face of the earth. And it doesn't 
seem right in any way to me ! And it's not 
up to you to suffer for your sister. [To Van 



538 THE CITY 

Vranken.] If we persuade Mrs. Van Vranken 
to a dignified separation such as you want — 

Van Vranken. And she gives her promise to 
call off Cairns — ! 

George. [Quickly.] Tess will be as anxious 
to stop gossip, when she hears its extent, as you. 
I'll take that on my shoulders. 

[Van Vranken looks at him, and half smiles 
cynically at his confidence. 

VoRHEES. Very well ! Will you, Van Vran- 
ken, be willing to hush the whole business up ? 

Van Vranken. Glad to ! 

VoRHEES. Live on with Mrs. Van Vranken in 
your house as if nothing had happened? 

Van Vranken. No ! Not by a damned sight ! 

VoRHEES. Come, don't be a yellow dog I Do 
all or nothing. 

Van Vranken. She left my house of her own 



THE CITY 539 

accord, and I've sworn she shall never put her 
foot in it again. 

VoRHEES. Oh, well, what's an oath more or 
less to you ! It will be only till after the elec- 
tion ! Rand's nomination is practically settled 
on — 

Van Vranken. Oh, I see ! Why didn't you 
say that at first? I've nothing personal against 
Rand. 

VoRHEES. I'm sure Mrs. Van Vranken, on 
her side, will do all she can to protect his interests. 

Van Vranken. I suppose I'll have to give 
in — 

VoRHEES. Good ! 

George. I'll see her now, if she's in the house. 

VoRHEES. [To Van Vranken.] I will com- 
municate something to you, after Rand has seen 
your wife. 



540 THE CITY 

Van Vranken. Very good. She took both 
the children when she left this morning. One 
child must go back with me now. 

VoRHEES. Both must go hack, to-day, and Mrs. 
Van Vranken, herself, — to live under your roof 
till after the election. 

Van Vranken. That's true ! Of course ! 
All right ! God, it'll be a hell of a life ! How- 
ever, there'll be an end of it to look forward to ! 
Good-by. 
VoRHEES and George. Good-by. 
[Enter Teresa and Mrs. Rand. Mrs. Rand 
is very altered. Her hair is dressed fashion- 
ably, etc., and, instead of the sweet, motherly 
woman she was, in Act I, she is now a rather 
overdressed, nervous-looking woman, ultra- 
smart, hut no longer comfortahle-looking and 
happy. 



THE CITY ' 541 

Teresa. [As she enters.] George ! 

Mrs. Rand. George ! 

[They both stop short, as they see Van Vranken. 

He hows to Teresa ; she only glares at him. 
Van Vranken. [To Mrs. Rand.] Good morn- 
ing. 

Mrs. Rand. [Looking at him, — outraged and 
angry.] You wicked man ! 

[Van Vranken is somewhat taken aback ; from 
her, he turns and looks at the two men; he 
raises his eyebrows, smiles, shrugs his shoul- 
ders, and slouches out indiferently. 
VoRHEES. I must go, too. 
Teresa. Good morning, Bert. 
VoRHEES. Good morning, Tess. How do you 
do, Mrs. Rand. 

Mrs. Rand. I don't know where I am, Bert. I 
never felt the need of Mr. Rand more than to-day ! 



542 THE CITY 

George. Bert, will you have to tell the Com- 
mittee about this? Won't it queer my nomi- 
nation ? 

VoRHEES. Not if Tess will do what we expect. 
I'll leave you to explain to her. 

[Moving to go. 

George. No, — stay, Bert ! 

Mrs. Rand. George ! Tess couldn't possibly 
tell you everything she wants to, before Bert. 

Teresa. Oh, don't worry, mother. I guess 
Don hasn't left much for me to tell ! Besides, 
Bert's a lawyer. I'd like his advice. [To 
George.] Don gave you his version, didn't 
he? 

George. Listen ! My whole future is at stake, 
and it's in your hands ! 

Teresa. Nonsense ! My hands are full of my 
own troubles. 



THE CITY 543 

Mrs. Rand. [To nobody in particular, and 
nobody pays any attention to her.] What a 
tragedy ! 

VoRHEES. George is right. His nomination 
for governor was decided on, this morning, 
provided he had an open chance. If you make a 
scandal now, he'll lose the nomination, sure, — 
and if not, what's worse, the election ! 

Teresa. You are trying to influence me against 
what I want to do, through George. I will never 
live with Don again ! 

George. Won't you? Only till after the 
election ? 

Teresa. No ! I intend to begin proceedings 
for a divorce to-day. 

George. But Don ofers you a legal separa- 
tion, and to share the children. 

Teresa. That's done purposely to keep me 



544 THE CITY 

tied, so I couldn't marry again ! I want the chil- 
dren all the time, and I want my freedom ! 

George. But you know what he threatens to 
do? 

Teresa. He wonH dare ! 

VoRHEES. That's not his reputation in New 
York. 

Mrs. Rand. [At random.] If she only wouldn't 
decide at once — all of a sudden. That's 
where women always slip up ! 

Teresa. Did he pretend he wanted me to 
come back? 

George. [Smiling in spite of himself.] No, 
but w^e persuaded him to be willing. 

VoRHEES. For George's sake, till after the 
election, on one condition — 

Teresa. [Quickly.] What condition? 

VoRHEES. That you agree to the sort of sepa- 
ration he planned. 



THE CITY 545 

George. And promise to put an end, once for 
all, to the Cairns gossip. 

Teresa. Just what I told you ! The whole 
thing with him is only a mean spirit of revenge ! 
He would sacrifice the children and me and every- 
thing else, to keep me from being happy with Jim. 

George. [Surprised at the apparent confession.] 
Do you mean you do love Cairns? 

Teresa. Yes. 

Mrs. Rand. [Breaking in.] No, she doesn't 
mean that ! She doesn't love him now, but she 
will, if she gets her divorce. 

George. [To Teresa.] What you really want 
to divorce Don for, then, is not because of Mrs. 
Judly, but so you can marry Cairns? 

Teresa. Exactly. 

VoRHEES. [Looking at his watch.] I must go. 
[To George.] The Committee will be waiting 
now for me. 



546 THE CITY 

Mrs. Rand. [Mortified.] You've shocked Bert, 
Tess. 

VoRHEES. [Smiling.] Oh, no, I've a report 
to make before George's nomination can be 
official, and I don't see, now, just how I'm going 
to make that report exactly as I wish. 

George. You mean on account of Tess ! 

Teresa. I'll make any sacrifice I can for 
George, except my own personal happiness. 
That, I haven't the right to sacrifice, because 
that belongs half to some one else. 

George. You go on and call me up by telephone 
when you get there. I'll have had a longer talk 
wdth Tess, and I may have something different 
to say to you. 

Vorhees. All right. 

[Going to Teresa. 

Teresa. I shall want you for my lawyer, Bert. 



THE CITY 547 

VoRHEES. Thanks. That isn't exactly in my 
Hne, but I hope you won't need a lawyer. Do 
what you can for George, won't you? 

Teresa. Of course. 

[Mrs. Rand goes out with Vorhees. 

Mrs. Rand. [As they go out.] Bert, you 
mustn't get a wrong impression from what Tess 
said, will you? She's her father's own daughter, 
and you know a Rand couldnH do a really wrong* 
thing; it's not in the blood. 

George. Now, look here, Tess ! On one side 
is a great career and me, and a dignified life for 
■you, with independence and the happiness and 
the love and the respect of your children ; on the 
other is probable failure for me, and worse than 
failure for you. Don'U do what he says, and if 
he wins his suit, you'll lose ^o/// children and every- 
thing else you ought to care about — 



548 THE CITY 

Teresa. Except Jim ! 

George. Would he make up for any thing? 

Teresa. Everything ! 

George. Even the children? 

Teresa. [Almost breaking down.] How can 
you say that? You know I wouldn't have to 
give up my children ! 

George. Ten chances to one you'd have to. 

Teresa. I don't beheve any judge would 
give Don the children in preference to me. 

George. Believe me, it'll be taking awful 
chances. 

Teresa. All life is that. 

[She turns aside, crying quietly. 

George. [Going over to her.] Tess ! But 
you don't realize what this nomination means 
to me — more than anything in the world ! I 
want it with every nerve and sinew in my body, 



THE CITY 549 

with every thought in my brain, with every ambi- 
tion I've got ! Just let me get this one big thing 
in my hands, and nothing shall stop me ! I'll 
climb on up the ladder of achievement and fame, 
and I'll take you all up with me ! Remember 
our boy and girl days, Tess, in Middleburg. 
We were never selfish, you and I, with each 
other. It used to be a fight between us as to 
which should give up ! Don't gp back on me 
this time. You've got it in your power to give 
me a great boost, or push the whole scaffolding 
of my career from under my feet. For the love 
of God, stand by me to-day ! 

Teresa. It's your future against my future ! 
Why should you expect me to sacrifice mine for 
yours? We aren't children now, and this isn't 
Middleburg ! I love you very much, but not in 
that old-fashioned way. 



550 THE CITY 

George. But has any one in this world the 
right to absolutely ignore everybody else, and 
think only of one's self? 

Teresa. It sounds to me exactly like what 
youWe doing ! 

George. I suppose I do sound like a selfish 
brute ; but I can't help feeling that what I ask 
of you, if six for me, is half a dozen for you, too, 
in the end. 

Teresa. If Don'll give me a full divorce, I'll 
do anything for you — live with the beast two 
years, if necessary, and not see Jim all that time. 
But don't ask me to give up Jim — [with emotion 
again] because I love him, and I won't, I 
couldn't ; if I said I would, I'd lie ! 

George. But Don won't give you what you 
want, and if you insist, he'll do what he says — ■ 
divorce you, with a filthy scandal ! 



THE CITY 551 

Teresa. The hour after the divorce was 
granted, Jim Cairns and I would be mar- 
ried. 

George. Listen! Would you do this? De- 
ceive me now? 

Teresa. How ? 

George. Well — agree to what Don asks — 

Teresa. Never ! 

George. Wait ! After the election, you might 
change your mind. Whatever course you took 
then, wouldn't interfere with me. 

Teresa. Does that seem to you quite square? 
Isn't it a good deal like breaking your word? 

George. Has Don done much else beside 
break his since he answered "I will" with you 
to the Bishop in the chancel? 

Teresa. His word was cracked before I knew 
him ! But I wasn't thinking of Don and me. 



552 THE CITY 

Aren't you playing a trick on the party that is 
putting its trust in you ? 

George. I don't see it ! If your divorce 
comes out after my election, it needn't affect 
the party. My acts will be speaking for them- 
selves, then. I intend to be square in office, and 
to succeed or fail by that standard. I don't 
mind a failure, doing the right thing; what I 
can't stand is failure doing nothing with having 
had my chance ! 

Teresa. I see; a sort of the-end-justifying- 
the-means principle. 

George. Not exactly, because I don't see 
anything wrong. It's just election tactics ! The 
others'd do it; we must fight them with their 
weapons. 

Teresa. [Rather cunningly.] Will you tell 
Bert Vorhees? 



THE CITY 553 

George. [After a second^ s pause.] No. 

Teresa. That's just what I mean ! It's 
something father wouldn't do. 

George. He wouldn't! Why, father's whole 
business success was due to his not letting his 
left hand know what his right hand was after, 
but to square things in the end by a good divi- 
sion ! — one third to the left hand on the basis 
that the right hand had done all the work ! And 
you know what father's name stood for — the 
very criterion of business honor ! 

Teresa. Well, George, suppose I do it. I'm 
in no position to criticise, any way. I'll go back 
till you're elected, and pretend I'm going to carry 
out Don's plan. 

George. Thank you, Tess. 

[But the enthusiasm is gone. 

Teresa. Only, somehow it doesn't coincide 



554 THE CITY 

with my idea of what I thought you were being 
and striving for. Maybe you're on your way up 
the ladder, but you, at the same time, are coming 
down from the pedestal I'd put you on, to join 
me at the bottom of mine. 

[There is a moment's pause, both looking straight 
ahead, not liking to look into each other's 
eyes. Enter Hannock. 

Hannock. Excuse me, Mr. Rand. Mr. Vor- 
hees is on the 'phone. 

Teresa. [Quickly, to George.] I'll tell him. 
Then you won't have to lie, if he asks any difficult 
questions. 

George. I wouldn't lie; I'd just beg any- 
thing I don't want to answer — and tell Eleanor 
to be sure and let me see her before she goes. 

Teresa. [Very serious.] I wonder if. she^d 
approve of this little plot of ours? I wish it 
didn't seem contemptible to me! 



THE CITY 555 

George. [Hurt and showing a hint of shame for 
the first time] For God's sake, Tess, don't sug- 
gest such a thing ! Eleanor is the one thing in 
the world I wouldn't give up to get this election. 
[Teresa looks at him meaningly as she goes out. 
George. What did you mean by looking for 
personal graft out of this election just now, with 
Mr. Vorhees. 

Hannock. I was showing my hand, that's 
all. I was calling the pot ! It's time ! 

George. You don't know the men you're 
dealing with ! 

Hannock. [Looking George squarely and 
meaningly in the face.] I know one of them 
better than he knows himself! 

George. Listen, Hannock! That day my 
father died, I promised myself and his memory 
I'd look after you, and look after you well — 
not like a dependent on father's charity — 



556 THE CITY 

Hannock. [Interrupts.] Damned unwilling 
charity — he was afraid — 

George. We won't go into the story of your 
mother — [Hannock wi/zce^.] I've tried to treat 
you as I would a — brother who was unlucky — 
somebody I was glad to give a hand to — 

Hannock. [Interrupting.] Well, haven't I 
made good ? What complaints have you — 

George. [Going on.] You've been of the 
greatest service to me in every way. There's 
no question about that ! But it's time for us 
now to open a new pack, and each go his own 
way — ■ 

Hannock. [Thunderstruck.] What's that you 
say? 

George. I'm going to offer you a fixed yearly 
income, — a sum we'll agree on, — and you're 
to get a job elsewhere, that's all — 



THE CITY 557 

Hannock. [Dry and ugly.] Is it ! 

George. What do you say? 

Hannock. Oh, I've got a hell of a lot to say ! 

George. Cut it down to yes or no, and we'll 
discuss the amount of the income ! 

Hannock. No I ! ! You haven't got to give 
half of what I expect to get out of the present 
situation ! 

George. [Angry, hut controlled.] If you don't 
look out, you'll get nothing, 

Hannock. [Sneers.] Pah ! Just wait till I 
begin to open your eyes for you ! For instance, 
how about the New Brunswick deal? 

George. What about it ? [On the defensive. 

Hannock. As crooked as anything that's 
ever been in "high finance"! 

\With a sneer. 

George. What do you mean? You knew 



558 THE CITY 

that deal from the very beginning — you knew 
every step I took in it? 

Hannock. Yes, / did ! I notice you kept 
the transaction pretty quiet from everybody 
else. 

George. It was nobody else's business. My 
father taught me that — 

Hannock. [Not listening out.] Yes ! — and he 
taught you a lot of other things, too ! But you 
go farther than he would have dared. 

George. That's enough ! 

Hannock. What's the difference between your 
deal, and the Troy business that sent Pealy to 
State's Prison? 

George. Every difference ! 

Hannock. [Triumphantly.] Is there? Think 
a minute ! [.4 second^s pause.] You gambled with 
your partner's money : Pealy gambled with 
his bank's. 



THE CITY 559 

George. It wasn't my partner^ s money; it 
was i\iQ firm's. 

Hannock. But you were the only one who 
knew what was being done with it. 

George. My partner got his fair share, didn't 
he? 

Hannock. Yes, but you got the unfair! 
You got paid pretty high for your ^'influence.'' 
Nobody else had any chance to sell theirs ! 
If that isn't taking money under false pretences, 
if it isn't using funds you haven't the right to 
use, — there was a miscarriage of justice in the 
Pealy case, that's all. 

George. But — ! 

Hannock. Go over the two deals with Vor- 
hees, if you don't believe me I Show him the 
differences between the Brunswick Transaction 
and the Pealy case, — if he can see any ! 

[Enter Eleanor, breezily, enthusiastically. 



56o THE CITY 

Eleanor. Good morning ! [She sees Han- 
nock; her manner changes to a cold one.] Good 
morning, Mr. Hannock. 

Hannock. Good morning, Miss Vorhees. 
Excuse me ! 

[He passes Miss Vorhees, and goes out; as he 

goes, with his back to them, he is seen taking out 

from his pocket his hypodermic needle, and a 

small bottle, — and, by then, he is out. Eleanor 

and George silently follow him with their eyes. 

Eleanor. [Turning.] What is it about him? 

George. [Kisses her.] You don't Hke him 

either ? 

Eleanor. I detest him ! What Cicely can 
see in him I — 

George. [Quietly.] Cicely? 
Eleanor. Yes, I've come to-day as a go- 
between — between you and Cicely — 



THE CITY S6i 

George. Ha ! Cicely's clever enough to know 
how to get what she wants from me. She has 
only to use you — 

Eleanor. She's in love with your secretary. 

George, [Not taking it in.] What? 

Eleanor. Cicely and Mr. Hannock are in 
love with each other — 

George. [Aghast.] Impossible — 

Eleanor. I know; I felt the same as you 
do. I detest him ; he's no match for Cicely 
— I feel instinctively the last man in the world 
for her. 

George. Even not that — 

Eleanor. But Cicely insists. They wish to 
marry. 

George. Never ! 

Eleanor. She guessed you would be against 
it. She says we none of us like Hannock, and 



562 THE CITY 

nobo.dy's fair to him ; and so she begged me to 
persuade you. She asked me to remember how 
much I loved you, and what our marriage meant 
to us. You see, I couldn't refuse ! But I'm 
afraid I'm not a very good go-between; my 
heart isn't in it ! 

George. [Hardly hearing Eleanor.] It's be- 
yond believing ! [He touches the hell with deci- 
sion.] I must talk to Cicely now, before she 
sees Hannock again. 

Eleanor. Wouldn't it be better without me ? 
She might resent your refusing and giving your 
reasons before me. 

[Enter Foot. 

George. Ask Miss Cicely to come here at 
once, please. 

Foot. Yes, sir. 

[He goes out. 



THE CITY 563 

George. Perhaps it would be better. 

Eleanor. George, it doesn't make any dif- 
ference to you that Hannock has no family or 
position ? Cicely thinks you're prejudiced against 
him because his mother was a milliner or dress- 
maker — or something — 

George. Of course that makes no difference 
to me — 

Eleanor. And you wouldn't be influenced 
against a man by your personal feeling, where 
your sister's happiness was concerned, would 
you? [He shakes his head] If you don't know 
anything against Hannock, you'll let him have 
a chance to prove himself worthy of Cicely, won't 
you? 

George. Eleanor, it can't be! Don't ask 
me any questions, but believe me, nothing could 
make such a thing possible, — personal preju- 



564 THE CITY 

dice and any other kind aside ! I want you to 
help me pull Cicely through it. I may even ask 
you to take Cicely into your house for a while. 
Would you do this for me? Teresa and Don, 
you know, would be no comfort, and, on the 
other hand, would set her a bad example, and 
fan every little rebellious flame in her ! 

Eleanor. Of course, I'll do whatever I pos- 
sibly can, dear. This is the very sort of thing 
I want to share with you, if I can't take it entirely 
off your shoulders. [Enter Cicely. 

Cicely. [Half defiant, half timid and hopeful.] 
Well? 

Eleanor. [Going. To Cicely, speaking ten- 
derly.] I won't go home yet. I'll wait for you 
upstairs. 

Cicely. Humph ! Thank you ; I know what 
that means ! [Eleanor goes out. 



THE CITY 565 

George. My dear girl, it isn't possible that 
you care for Hannock? 

Cicely. [Determined.] Yes, very much ! 

George. Well, even that may be, but still 
not in the way you think. 

Cicely. / love him! Oh, I knew you'd be 
against it ! Nobody cares for him in this 
house ! 

George. [Quickly.] And that's why you do ! 
You're sorry for him, my dear girl ! It's pity, 
not love I 

Cicely. [Increasing her resentment and deter- 
mination.] Nothing of the sort ! He doesn't 
need my pity in any way. 

George. It's just as I would feel toward a 
girl who seemed to me to be ignored. 

Cicely. Abused ! As good as insulted here, 
by everybody ! 



566 TEE CITY 

George. You think so, and your sympathy 
is aroused, — but that's not love. 

Cicely. You don't know what you're talking 
about ! 

George. Yes, I do, — better than you. 
You've never been in love in your life, and so 
you mistake something, that is probably like a 
sisterly affection for this man, for the other thing. 

Cicely. Ridiculous ! 

George. You don't know the difference 
now — 

Cicely. Nonsense ! 

George. But you'll realize it some day when 
the right man comes along — 

Cicely. [Satirically.] I hope not ! It would be 
awkward, as I shall he married to Fred Hannock. 

George. No, you'll never be married to 
Hannock ! 



THE CITY 567 

Cicely. YouWe not my father ! 

George. But I represent him, and I tell you 
you must give up this idea — 

Cicely. [Interrupting angrily.] And I tell 
you I won't ! Good-by ! 

[Starting to go. 

George. Wait a minute. [Rings hell.] You 
can't marry this man. He isn't good enough 
for you ! 

Cicely. Humph ! 

George. Or for any self-respecting woman 
to marry, as far as that goes. 

Cicely. Your opinion as to whom I shall 
marry, or not, means absolutely nothing to me. 

George. Very well, I'll go even farther. 
I'll tell you that, even if both my reasons for 
disapproving of Hannock were done away with, 
— still, I say for you to marry him is impossible, 



568 THE CITY 

and I, as your elder brother, representing your 
father J forbid it. - [Enter Foot. 

Foot. Yes, sir? 

George. Ask Mr. Hannock to come here. 

Foot. Yes, sir. [Goes out. 

George. I shall tell him, before you, anything 
between him and you is absolutely impossible, — 
that I forbid it, and that he is dismissed from 
my service. 

Cicely. Then I will go with him, if he wants 
me to. Do you think I'm going to have him 
lose his position and everything through me, 
and not stick to him? 

George. [With tension.] Sorry for him! 
That's all it is ! Sorry for him I 

Cicely. Ifs not — and you can forbid now 
till doomsday. I'm my own mistress, and I 
shall do as I darn please I I shall marry the man 



THE CITY 569 

I want to, in spite of you — and the whole 
family, if necessary, — but I wanted to give you 
the chance to stand by me — [Her voice falters, 
and she turns away; she cries.] I felt "you 
wouldnH, but I wanted you to, and that's why 
— I've come here now — and let you — humili- 
ate me — in this — way. I wanted my own 
brother to sympathize with me, to help me. 
Everybody will follow your lead ! 

George. [Goes to her, and puts his arms about 
her.] Cis ! I can't tell you how sorry I am ! 
Not since father died have I felt as I do now. 
I've nothing to gain or lose except your affec- 
tion, dear girl, and your happiness, so you can 
believe me when I say this marriage canH be — 
[She pushes his arm away and faces him. 

Cicely. [Literal and absolutely unconvinced or 
frightened.] Why not? 



570 THE CITY 

George, I canH tell you. 

Cicely. Well, you know me well enough to 
realize such reasoning with me is a waste of 
breath. 

George. [Sufering.] I want to spare you — 

Cicely. What ? It doesn't seem to me you're 
sparing me much ! 

George. But listen — Vorhees just now told 
me — Hannock isn't on the level, — he isn't 
honest ! 

Cicely. I won't take Bert Vorhees' word 
for that ! Fred's been your right-hand man 
here for four years and over. Have you ever 
found him doing a single dishonest thing? 
I'm sure you haven't, or you w^ouldn't have 
kept him. I don't know why you did anyway ! 
It was perfectly evident you didn't like him ! 

[Hannock enters. 



THE CITY 571 

George. [Quickly, before he is fully in the 
room, and going to the door.] Hannock, please 
excuse me. Will you wait one minute in the 
hall? 

Hannock, [In the doorway. 'He looks qiies- 
tioningly at Cicely. She nods her head.] Cer- 
tainly. 

[He goes out. 

George. [Intensely, with his hand on the knob, 
holding the door closed behind him.] Listen to 
me, for God's sake ! You're my sister, I'm your 
brother. Have I ever showed that I did any- 
thing but love you? 

Cicely. No, that's why I hoped — 

George. [Interrupting, almost beside himself.] 
But it canH be I ! Won't you trust me, — wonH 
you? Let me tell Hannock, without going any 
deeper into it, that — you realize the marriage 



572 THE CITY 

can't be ; that you and he mustn't meet again ! 
You can say what kind things you — 

Cicely. [Flashing.] Never ! ! You ought to 
know me better than to propose any such thing ! 

[She moves toward the door. 

George. [With a movement to stop her.] For 
your own sake, for his sake, for mother^s, for 
everybody's — trust me and — 

Cicely. [Looking him directly in the face after 
a second's silence, speaks with the note of finality.] 
Listen ! I married Fred Hannock this morning ! 

[George looks at her, his eyes dilating. There 
is a pause. 

George. [In horror.] What ! ! 

Cicely. I married Fred Hannock half an 
hour ago. We walked home from the church, 
separately. He went to his work, and I sent 
for Eleanor. 



THE CITY 573 

George. [In a voice of terrible but suppressed 
rage, goes to the door, throws it open with violence, 
and calls loudly ;] Come in ! 

[Hannock enters quietly, expecting a fight or a 
scene; he is on the defensive and not in any 
way frightened. 

George. [Controlling himself by a big efort.] 
Is this true, what my sister says, that behind 
my back you've been making love to her — 

Cicely. [Interrupting hi?n.] 1 7tever said that ! 

George. That you've repaid all that I've 
done for you, and all my father did, by taking 
advantage of our kindness and your position 
here to run off with — 

Cicely. [Interrupting.] I was as anxious to 
run off as he — 

George. But why wasn't I told? Why do it 
secretly? [To Hannock.] Why didn't you go 



574 THE CITY 

about it in the square, open way, unless you 

knew you were doing wrong ? 

Hannock. I knew you'd fight it for all you 
were worth, and I wasn't going to run any risk 
of losing her ! 

Cicely. But you wouldn't have ! My brother 
would have wasted his words then, as much as he 
is now — 

Hannock. I was afraid — any fool in my 
place could see how I've really stood in this 
family. The only friend I had in the house, 
or who ever came to it, was she! 

[With a wave of his hand toward Cicely. 

George. And that's why! Can't you see it? 
Don't you know the difference between pity 
and love ? 

Cicely. / love him and he knows it; — 
donH you, Fred? 



THE CITY SIS 

Hannock. Yes, / do know it! As well as I 
know your brother only kept me here because — • 
[turning to George] you were afraid of me ! 

George. Afraid of you ? 

Hannock. Yes ! Do you suppose I didn't 
guess your father must have told you I was on 
to him in the bank ! 

George. Leave the dead alone ! You've got 
your hands full with the living! 

Hannock. Well, I know my business well 
enough to realize that once Cicely and I were 
married, you'd have to make the best of it ! 

George. Never ! I tell you this marriage is 
no marriage ! 

[Cicely and Hannock exclaim in derision. 

Cicely. What's the use of talking any more 
about it ? We aren't getting anywhere ! It's done 
— and George has got to make the best of it ! 



576 THE CITY 

George. I tell you it can't be ! Will you take 
my word, Hannock ? 

Hannock. No ! 

[Laughs loudly. 

George. Then, I must go ahead without you ! 
You're dismissed. Do you hear? You're dis- 
charged from my employ ! 

Hannock. [Getting very angry, but controlled.] 
You take care! 

George. [Continues determinedly.] You'll 
leave this house to-day. I'll give you an hour 
to pack up and get out, and you'll never lay your 
eyes on this girl again. 

Cicely. If he goes now, I'll go with him. 
I'm his wife ! 

George. You won't go with him ! 

Hannock. Who'll prevent her ? 

George. I will I 



THE CITY 577 

Hannock. [In a Maze] Try it ! ! 

Cicely. I've just promised to love, honor and 
obey him — and if he says to come, I'll go ! 

George. [Slowly hut strongly.] He wonH say 
it. 

Hannock. I do say it! Come on. Cicely! 
But if you want to come back, you can, because, 
before I'm through with your brother, I'll get 
him down on to his knees, begging me to come 
back, and I won't come without you I 

George. [Going to the door and holding it open.] 
Cicely, will you wait in here with Eleanor for a 
few minutes? 

Hannock. Oh, we can speak out before her ! 
I want my wife to know the truth about every- 
thing ! I don't intend to be the goat in this 
family any longer ! 

George. Well, you can tell Cicely, afterward, 



578 THE CITY 

what I'm going to tell you, if you like. God 
keep me from ever having to tell her ! 

[After a look straight at Hannock, he looks at 

Cicely very seriously. She responds to 

his look, impressed by it, and turns her eyes 

to Hannock. Neither quite understands, but 

each feels the depth of seriousness in George's 

attitude. 

Hannock. [Doggedly to Cicely.] Go on. 

Cicely. [To Hannock.] I'll wait there for 

you. Don't do anything without me. I'm so 

sorry my brother takes this attitude ! Don't 

think it can influence me, any more than the 

disgraceful way you've always been treated 

here has ; nothing they say can change me 

toward you, Fred ! [She leaves them. 

George. I didn't want to have to tell you 

this. I'd rather almost die than have to tell 



THE CITY 579 

Cicely ! I must break faith with father, but 
of course he'd be the first to ask me to. I must 
dig out a skeleton that is rotting in its closet 
— that's the trouble ! I must do this, and a lot 
more, if you make me, and give you a couple 
of blows which will come pretty near to knock- 
ing you out, if you've anything at all of a man 
in you. And every bit of it can be spared every- 
body, if you'll go away and let Cicely — divorce 
you. 

Hannock. Well, I wonH 1 

George. Because you w^on't give up Cicely? 

Hannock. Exactly. I love her better than 
anything, — money, comfort, happiness, every- 
thing you can think of, — so go on, fire your last 
gun, and let's get through with it ! My wife — 

George. \With excitement.] She isnH \o\xv 
wife ! — [Hannock looks at him and sneers. 



58o THE CITY 

George's rage at Hannock is only governed by 
the tragedy of the whole thing.] Your marriage 
wasnH any marriage! 

Hannock. [A little frightened, and very angry 
now.] What do you mean ? — 

George. [Looks towards the door where Cicely 
has gone, and, with difficulty, manages to control 
his voice, as he lowers it.] Cicely is your sister I 

Hannock. [With a cry.] Cicely is what? 

George. Your sister I 

Hannock. [Sees ''red," and goes nearly mad.] 
You're a God damn liar ! 

George. It's the truth — 

Hannock. [Out of his mind, with an insane 
laugh.] You're a liar ! [Cicely, alarmed, opens 
the door to come in. Hannock shouts at her 
angrily, in an ugly voice :] You go back ! — and 
shut the door ! Do you hear I Get out of this 
room I 



THE CITY 581 

George. [Strong, hut more kind.] Wait in 
the room till I call you. 

Hannock. [Brokenly — ugly.] I don't want 
her hanging round here now ! This is none of 
her business, none o' hers ! 

George. [Speaks toward the doorivay.] Elea- 
nor, I don't want Cicely to hear what we're saying. 

Eleanor. [Answering.] Very good. 

[She is seen shutting the door. 

Hannock. [Making guttural sounds, and un- 
able to pronounce the words clearly.] Hugh — 
hugh — hah ! — You'd play any game to get 
rid of me, wouldn't you? But you can't fool me 
like that ! ! 

[He sits in a chair, mumbling to himself inco- 
herently every other minute, working his hands, 
his mouth and his chin wet with saliva. 

George. That day I saw you first, just before 
he died, my father told me. 



582 THE CITY 

Hannock. I don't believe it ! 

George. He made me promise two things : — 
that I wouldn't tell you — never ! — and that 
I would look out for you. 

Hannock. I don't believe it! 

George. That's why your mother got her 
allowance, — and to buy her silence — 

Hannock. I don't believe it! 

[Laughing and weeping. 

George. Now, you see why you must leave here 
to-day — leave New York ! Why there was no 
marriage this morning and never can be ! Why — 

Hannock. [His mind deranged, rises unevenly; 
he is loud, partly incoherent, and his face is twitch- 
ing and distorted, his hands clutching and clench- 
ing, his whole body wracked and trembling, but 
still strong, with a nervous madman's strength.] 
It's all a lie — to separate Cicely from me ! 



THE CITY 583 

George. [Goes to him and sees the change.] 
Hannock ! 

Hannock. I'll never believe it ! 

George. [Taking him by the shoulder.] Have 
you gone out of your mind ! 

Hannock. I'll never give her up ! 

George. What!! I tell you, she's your sister! 

Hannock. And I say / donH believe it! I 
love her, she loves me. I won't give her up ! ! 

George. Yes, you will ! ! 

Hannock. / won't! Do you think I'd give 
her up to some other fellow to hold in his arms ! 
For some other man to love and take care of!! 
You're crazy ! ! She said if I said come, she'd 
go with me, and I'll say it ! ! 

[He starts toward the door. George takes hold 
of him to stop him from calling her. 

George. Wait! If you don't give her up 



S84 THE CITY 

now, after what I've told you, and leave here 
before she comes out of that room, I'll have to do 
the only thing left, — tell her ! 

Hannock. [Furious.] No, you won't ! You 
sha'n't tell her! It isn't true! And if it was, 
by God, she sha'n't know it ! It would separate 
us ! 

George. [Horrified at what this means, calls 
sternly and with determination ;] Cicely ! 

Hannock. \\Vildly.] DonH you dare to tell 
her that lie ! 

Eleanor. [Opening the door.] You want 
Cicely to come in? 

George. Yes. 

[Eleanor turns away from the door, leaving it 
open behind her. Cicely appears, and enters, 
— leaving the door open. 

Hannock. There isn't any lie too big for him 



THE CITY 585 

to make up to separate us ! I'm going ! Will 
you come with me? 
Cicely. Of course ! 

George. Cicely! Are you strong? Are you 
brave? You must hear something unbelievably 
terrible ! 

Hannock. [Holding out his hand beggingly.] 
Come along, don't listen to him ! 

[She makes a movement toward Hannock. 
George. You can't ! [Taking hold of her. 

Cicely. I will ! Leave go of me ! 

[Struggling desperately. 
George. [Puts his arms about her, and holds 
her in his arms — her back to him.] My poor 
child, he's your — 

[Hannock, without warning, pulls out a pistol 
from his hip pocket, and shoots her dead in 
George's arms. 



586 THE CITY 

Eleanor. [Calls, in fright.] George ! ! 
George. Cicely ! [He holds her in his arms, 
and carries her over to sofa. Calls brokenly : ] 
Cicely ! 

[Eleanor enters quickly, and goes to them. 
Eleanor. [In horror as she sees.] Oh ! 
George. Take her. 

[Eleanor takes Cicely tenderly from him. 
Hannock. Now, you nor nobody else can 
separate us ! 

[Lifts the pistol to his heart to shoot, feeling for 

the place he showed in Act I. George springs 

forward and gets hold of him and the pistol 

before he can shoot. 

George. No ! Thafs too good for you I That's 

too easy ! By God, you've got to pay. 

[Enter Foot in excitement. 
Foot. Excuse me, sir, I heard — 



THE CITY 587 

George. All right. Telephone for the police. 
Is she breathing, Eleanor ? [Eleanor shakes her 
head.] Oh, God ! 

[Bowing his head, emotion surges up in him. 

Hannock, in this moment of weakness, almost 

frees himself and almost gets hold of the pistol. 

Eleanor. \Who is watching, cries out in alarm.] 

George ! George, be careful ! [George pulls 

himself together too quickly for him, and prevents 

Hannock. Foot starts to go. To Foot.-] Help 

me ; it won't take you a moment ! 

George. No ! Foot, I know I can trust you. 
[Giving him the pistol.] Keep this, yourself, and 
don't let him get out of the room. 
Foot. Yes, sir. 

[Takes the pistol, and stands before Hannock. 
George goes to Cicely, and takes her in his 
arms. 



588 THE CITY 

George. Poor little woman ! little sister ! 
Why did this have to be 1 I wonder if this is 
what they call the sins of the fathers? 

[He carries her out of the room, Left, followed by 
Eleanor. Hannock, the moment they are 
gone, makes a movement. Foot at once 
covers him with the pistol. 
Hannock. Give me that pistol ! 
Foot. No, sir. 

Hannock. Name your own price I 
Foot. Miss Cicely's life back, sir ! 
Hannock. You''re against me too, are you ! 
Every one's against me ! 

[George comes hack. 
George. [Taking the pistol from Foot.] 
Thank you. Now, telephone, and ask them to be 
quick, please. 
Foot. Shall I come back, sir? 



THE CITY 589 

George. No, I think this job had better be 
mine. 

[Looking hard at Hannock. 

Hannock. [Quickly.] I won't try to get away, 
— I give you my word of honor. 

George. Your word of honor ! [To Foot.] 
When you've telephoned, go to Miss Vorhees. 

Foot. Yes, sir. 

George. Ask her to keep my mother and Mrs. 
Van Vranken from coming here. 

Foot. Yes, sir. 

[Goes out. 

Hannock. [Makes a move for George.] Give 
me that gun ! [There is a short struggle. George 
breaks from Hannock, and, crossing to the table, 
lays the pistol on it. Hannock makes a tricky 
attempt to get to it quickly, but is caught by George, 
who holds him. The following scene takes place 



590 THE CITY 

with George keeping hold of Hannock, who some- 
times struggles and sometimes tries to break, sud- 
denly or craftily, away from George's grip, and at 
other times remains quiescent.] You're a damn 
fool ! Don't you see it's the easiest way all 
around for us? I've got to die anyway. 

George. But not that way. That's too easy 
for you ! 

Hannock. Well, it's easier for you, too, with 
me out of the way ! There's no arrest, no trial, 
no scandal ! Nobody'll know I was her brother ; 
nobody'U know about your father ! Think what 
it'll save your mother ! Think what it'll save 
you ! Think what it'll save everybody ! 

George. Including you, — and you don't de- 
serve to be saved anything! 

Hannock. Still, even / am your own blood ! 
For God's sake, go on, let me ! All you have 



THE CITY 591 

to do is to turn your back a minute — it won't 
take two I Please ! Think of her — what it'll 
save her memory ! 

George. No ! 

Hannock. Then for your mother's sake ! 
How can she go through a trial and all that means ! 

George. Your work in the next room is 
worse than any trial for her to bear. 

Hannock. Think of yourself, of the election ! 
What will my trial do to your election? 

George. I'm not thinking of my election 
now, — I'm thinking of that little, still figure 
• lying in the next room ! 

Hannock. [Emotionally, almost crying.] 
There'd have been two, if you hadn't stopped 
me ! For the love of God, give me the gun — 

George. No ! You^ve got to sit in the chair ! 

Hannock. \With an ugly change.] Well, you'll 



592 THE CITY 

get your punishment, too, — don't you forget 
that ! ! I know how eaten up with ambition you 
are ! And every single wish nearest to your 
heart will die just as dead as I do, if you let me 
go to trial! 

George. What do you think you're doing? 

Hannock. If I have to pay my price, I'll make 
you pay yours. And you'll be dead, pubhcly and 
politically, before I go into the condemned cell. 

George. You're crazy, and that's the only 
thing that may save you, if Matteawan is salva- 
tion ! 

Hannock. I knew your father was dishonest, 
and I told him that day; I guess it killed him. 
And I've watched you, and tempted you, and 
helped you go on with his methods ! Every bit 
of this will come out in my trial. I'll get a clever 
enough lawyer to manage that I And you'll lose, 



THE CITY 593 

not only your ambition, but your position in the 
world, and one more thing besides, — the woman 
youWe in love with! For that kind of a high- 
browed moral crank wouldn't stand for one half 
you stand for in business, and when she finds out 
how deceived she's been in you, if I know human 
nature, she won't have that much love left for 
you — [Snapping his fingers.] And she'll find 
out J and they'll all know ! — your party and the 
other party ! That election '11 be a hell of a walk- 
over for the other side! 

[Eleanor enters. 

George. What is it, Eleanor? I don't want 
you here. 

Hannock. [Half aside, with a half jeer, and a 
half smile.] Hah ! 

Eleanor. Excuse me. Bert wants you on 
the telephone. Shall I answer? . 



594 THE CITY 

George. Yes, please. [Hannock begins to 
steal behind, toward the pistol.] Does mother 
know? 

Eleanor. Yes, and she's very plucky. But 
I'm surprised how full she is of the desire for 
revenge ! [George turns and sees Hannock, and 
quickly but quietly intercepts him, and stands with 
his hand on the pistol.] She wants Hannock 
punished ! She's watching for the police ! 

George. They ought to be here soon, now. 

Eleanor. Teresa is with me. She feels it 
terribly. [Goes out. 

Hannock. Do you realize how completely 
you'll be done for, if you don't let me do it? 
The New Brunswick business isn't a patch on 
some of your other deals I know about ! 

George. I've never done a thing in business 
that couldn't stand the strictest overhauling. 



THE CITY 595 

Hannock. If you believe that, you're a bigger 
■fool than I thought ! Vd rather be a crook than 
3i.fool, any day I Quick, before she comes from 
the telephone ! Turn your back ; walk to the 
door there ! It's easily explained ; — you're not 
to blame ! 

George. No ! 

Hannock. [Hysterically] If you don't, I'll 
explain now, before her, where and how your 
standard in business is rotten, and your dealings 
crooked, — and you can begin to take your 
medicine ! 

George. I dare you ! 

[Eleanor comes back. 

Eleanor. Bert wants me to tell you it's 
settled, — your nomination — and he adds, 
''good luck!'' 

George. Did you tell him about — ? 



596 THE CITY 

Eleanor. No — I — I told him to come 
here as soon as he could. 

George. All right. 

[Eleanor starts to go. 

Hannock. [Excitedly.] Wait a minute, Miss 
Vorhees ! 

George. No, Eleanor, go back, please ! 

Hannock. [Quickly.] This man, who thinks 
he has it on me, is afraid to have you hear the 
.truth about himself. That's why he don't want 
you to stay. 

George. [To Eleanor.] Stay ! 

Hannock. You think George Rand stands for 
honesty, and the square deal in the business 
world ! Well, he does, but ifs a lie I And if he 
wasn't paying up to the hilt — East, West, North 
and South — to protect himself, everybody in this 
country would know what we, on the inside, do ! 



THE CITY 597 

Eleanor. George, unless you'd really rather I 
stayed, I don't want to hear what he has to say 
about you. 

Hannock. [Qidckly.] I don't blame you for 
not wanting to hear about the suicide of Henry 
Bodes ! [To George.] Do you know who killed 
Bodes ? You did I 

George. The man's out of his mind still, 
Eleanor. 

Hannock. Am I? Bodes was on to your 
Copper Pit scheme, and saw it succeed — so he 
tried one like it, and it failed ! 

George. Was that my fault? 

Hannock. Yes ! It was your example set him 
on, and do you think your scheme was legitimate ? 

George. So help me God, I do ! 

Hannock. Then why, when it failed, did 
Bodes kill himself ? He wasn't ^ro^e .^ It wasn't 



/ 



598 TEE CITY 

money that drove him to it ! It was shame, be- 
cause his scheme was crooked, just as yours was. 
Success covered it, but failure showed it up. 

Eleanor. Don't ask me to Hsten to this any 
longer! 

[She goes out. George watches her go, but 
Hannock only gives a quick glance after her. 

Hannock. Bodes was one of your sweet, weak 
family men, w^ho can't stand on disgrace ! 

George. Disgrace ! ! 

Hannock. Ask Vorhees, — and about the 
New Brunswick case ! And get him to tell you 
the truth I 

George. [Half to himself.] Good God ! If 
there is something in all this? 

Hannock. What are you paying Elmer Gaston 
ten thousand a year for? 

George. For his legal services ! 



THE CITY 599 

Hannock. Rot ! The firm's never used him — 

George. But keeping him on our pay hst 
keeps him from working against us. 

Hannock. Hush money ! 

George. No ! 

Hannock. Why were all these Amsterdam 
tunnel bonds made over to Parker Jennings? 

George. He helped us get the bill passed ! 

Hannock. Ask Vorhees if he wouldn't put 
that down in the expense-book under the name 
of Blackmail. 

George. No ! 

Hannock. Ask Vorhees ! 

George. You can't alter the diplomacy of 
the business world — calling it by ugly names. 

Hannock. No, I can't, but Roosevelt did ! 

George. If you think I'm afraid of what 
you — 



6oo THE CITY 

Hannock. Oh, come ! Stop bluffing ! If you 
don't realize I know what I'm talking about, 
I'll go on. I know at least jive separate deals of 
yours so damned crooked, if any one of them 
were made public you'd be out of business over 
night, and out of the country, if you know your 
job. [He waits. No answer. George is weigh- 
ing the truth or the lie oj what he is saying. He 
evidently sees some truth in it.] And I've got 
proof of what I say ! Every proof ! I've got 
copies of letters and telegrams, when I couldn't 
get the originals. I've got shorthand reports 
of private telephone conversations. I've got 
data enough for fifty trials, if it should come to 
that. I've been preparing for a deal of my own 
with you ever since I came to you ! Only — God ! 
[He, is moved as he thinks of Cicely.] I didn't 
think it would be trying to get rid of my life ! 



THE CITY 6oi 

I'd planned to make you finance a big game for 
me! 

George. If what you say is true — and I don't 
know but what some of it may be, — then it's 
good-by to everything for me, and it'll be about 
all I'm worth having come to me. 

Hannock. That's it! Even Middleburg'll 
be too small for you, if I show you up ! But you 
know what'U shut my lips tight ! Gimme the 
gun — 

George. [Quickly.] No. 

Hannock. [Pleadingly.] You've everything to 
get, and nothing to lose by it ! 

George. Yes, I have something to lose! 
— what rag of honor I've got left ! 

Hannock. No ! Think a minute — if Pm 
out of the way? There's no real scandal — 
your father's old story — our father's old story — 



6o2 THE CITY 

isn't even known by your mother. I shot Cicely, 
and killed myself, — it's an ordinary story. I 
was drunk or crazy — she wouldn't have me. Any 
story you want to make up, and there'll not be 
a murmur against Cicely, then ! But can you 
see the papers if the real story comes out ! ! All 
over this country, and all the countries, it'll be tele- 
graphed and pictured and revelled in. It'll even 
get into the cinematograph shows in Europe — 
with some low down girl masquerading as Cicely. 

George. Stop ! Stop ! 

Hannock. And the story will come out, if 
I go to trial. I'll stop at nothing to take it out 
of you. Whether you believe or not what I say 
about your business methods, you take my word 
for it, my arrest will put a quietus on your elec- 
tion, and finish you, not only in a political career, 
but any old career at all ! 



THE CITY 603 

George. What a finish ! What a finish of 
all I hoped to do and be ! 

Hannock. And — you'll lose the woman who's 
just left this room. Whether all her hrother^s 
high-browed talk is bunkum or not, even / know 
hers is serious ; and if she finds you've de- 
ceived her all the time, that your high ideals are 
fake — ! 

George. [Interrupts, crying, in an agony half 
to himself:] They're not ! They're not ! God 
knows, nobody's been more deceived in me than 
I've been myself ! 

Hannock. Well, you know she won't stand 
for it. A girl like — her heart couldn't stomach 
it ! Go on, bring me to trial and lose everything 
you've banked on for a career ! Lose your 
business standing, lose your best friends, lose 
the woman you want, and raise the rottenest 



6o4 THE CITY 

scandal for your family, for your mother, to bear, 
and your little sister's memory to go foul under ! 
Do it all, and be damned to you ! ! 

[He falls on his knees with exhaustion. 

George. My God, how can I ? 

Hannock. [Whirling, pleading.] All you have 
to do, to save every mother's son of us, is to let 
me do what the law'll do anyway ! Leave that 
pistol where I can get it, and walk half a dozen 
steps away. That's all you need do ! [He sees 
George hesitate.] It's all or nothing for you ! ! 
It's the finish or the beginning ! Are you ready 
and willing to be down and out, and go through the 
hell my living'll mean for you ? [He sees George 
weaken more.] You'll be Governor ! Sure, you'll 
marry Miss Vorhees ! You'll find all the proofs 
I told you about in my safety deposit box 
at the Manhattan. And there'll be only white 



THE CITY 60s 

flowers and pity on the new little grave ! It'll 
be your chance to prove by the future that you 
were made of the right stuff at heart, after 
all! 

[George puts down the pistol not jar from 

Hannock's reach, and starts to walk away 

with a set face — suffering. Hannock makes 

a slow, silent step towards the pistol, but, 

before he can get it, George turns and recovers 

it, with a terrific revulsion of feeling. He 

seizes the pistol and throws it through the big 

glass window. 

George. No! I haven't the right! You 

must take your punishment as it comes, and I 

must take mine ! [He suddenly breaks down; tears 

fill his throat and pour from his eyes. Hannock is 

crouching and drivelling on the floor.] This is my 

only chance to show I can be on the level! That 



6o6 THE CITY 

I can he straight, when it's plain what is the right 
thing to do ! God help me do it ! 

[The door opens and a Policeman enters ivith 
Foot, as 

THE CURTAIN FALLS 



ACT III 

Scene: Same room as Act II, only seen from 
another point of view. The mantel is now 
Right and the windows Back. Left is the wall 
not seen before. Later the same day. Vorhees 
and George are seated at the desk before a mass 
of business papers. There is a tall whiskey-and- 
soda glass, nearly empty, and a plate with the 
remnants of some sandwiches, beside George. 
The shades of the windows are drawn, but it is 
still daylight. George looks crushed, mentally 
and physically, but is calm and immovable. 
Vorhees looks stern and disappointed. There 
is a pause; neither men move. 
George. That's all ? [Vorhees nods his head. 
607 



6o8 THE CITY 

George drinks, and gathers up the papers.] What's 
to be done with these papers? Are they Han- 
nock's or mine? 

VoRHEES. They have only to do with your 
affairs. Hannock hadn't any right to them ! 
In any case, you don't pretend to deny anything 
these papers prove. Destroy them ! 

George. But — 

[Getting up all the papers, except some oj his 
own, which he separates and leaves on the desk. 

Vorhees. I doubt if, when it comes to the 
point, Hannock will go into all this business! 
He will have had months to cool down, and his 
hands will be full enough. [He gives George a 
couple of papers he has had in his hand, and mo- 
tions to the fireplace.] Here! don't wash your 
dirty linen ; burn it ! 

[George goes to the fireplace with a mass oj 
papers, and hums them. 



THE CITY 609 

George. [As the papers burn.] Has Eleanor 
gone home ? 

VoRHEES. Yes, but she promised your mother 
to come back later and stop over-night with her. 

George. I wonder if she'd be willing to see me ? 

VoRHEES. Yes, because I'm sure she didn't 
believe Hannock. 

George. Tess can stay with mother. There'll 
be no need of her pretending to go back to Don, 
now. 

VoRHEES. Pretending! 

George. Yes. That's something else I did, 
— persuaded Tess to make Don believe she'd 
come back in accordance with his conditions. 
But it was agreed between us she was to break 
her word to him, after the election! 

[He hums his last hatch of papers. 

VoRHEES. It's a pity you can't burn that, too \ 
I'd have staked my reputation on your being 



6io THE CITY 

absolutely on the level ! How I have been 
taken in by you ! 

George. I know, it sounds ridiculous, and 
I don't expect you to understand it ; but I've 
been taken in by myself, too ! Shall I write my 
withdrawal from the nomination, or will you 
take a verbal message? 

VoRHEES. Write it. It will make less for 
me to say by way of explanation. [George goes 
to the desk and writes.] I'm sorry, I'm sorry, 
George. I know what it means to you ! 

George. Somehow now, it doesn't seem so 
much, after all ; I suppose that's Cicely — poor 
little girl — poor little girl, — and — Eleanor. 

[He adds the last, almost in a whisper. 

VoRHEES. You're a young man, George ! 
You've got a good chance yet to make good, and 
it's all up to you! 



THE CITY 6ii 

George. I know that — 

VoRHEES. I suppose you won't want to go 
back to Middleburg? 

George. No ! No ! ! For everybody's sake ! 
But, would it have been wrong — leave me out 
of it, — to have saved father's memory, to have 
saved mother — could I have let him do it ? 

VoRHEES. You know you couldn't ! 

George. Yes, and anyway, I didn't. Why 
can't I forget it ! 

VoRHEES. Oh, it'll be many a day before you 
deserve to forget it ! 

George. But, will you ever have any confi- 
dence in me? Can any one ever believe in me 
again ? 

[Buries his face in his hands, and groans. 

VoRHEES. / can. Whether I do or not, is 
entirely up to you. 



6i2 THE CITY 

George. You're sure of that? 

VoRHEES. [Takes his hand and shakes it.\ 
Sure. 

George. And Eleanor? 

VoRHEES. Well — there's no use in my lying 
about it. If I know her, you must give up all 
idea of marrying her. Eleanor's husband must 
be a man she can look up to. That's a necessity 
of her nature — she can't help it. But I do 
believe she'll help you with her friendship. If 
you don't go back to Middleburg, where will 
you go? 

George. Here! I stay right here! 

VoRHEES. [Surprised.] Here ! It'll be hard. 

George. I suppose it will ! 

VoRHEES. How will you start? 

George. First, make a clean breast to my 
partners ! Give back all the money I've made 



THE CITY 613 

in ways which you've proved to me are illegal. 
Publish every form of graft I've benefited by, for 
the sake of future protection ! Resign from all — 

VoRHEES. It's gigantic! It's colossal! Can 
you do it? 

George. [Simply.] I can try. I'm going to 
have a go at it, anyway ! 

Vorhees. The Press ! Among your profes- 
sional associates — here and all over the State — 
it'll be hell for you to go through ! 

George. I know it ! I know it ! But to get 
back where I want to be — if I ever can ! I've 
got to fight it out right here, and make good here, 
or not at all. I don't care what it costs me ! 

Teresa. [Opening the door.] May I come in? 

George. Yes, come in, Tess. Where's 
mother ? 

Teresa. She's locked herself in her room! 



6i4 THE CITY 

She's turned against me in the most extraordinary 
manner ! Says my influence over Cicely is at 
the bottom of everything ! [She begins to cry.] 
She goes so far as to say, if I'd behaved Uke a 
decent woman, she doesn't beheve this would 
have happened ! I didn't care what other peo- 
ple believe of me, but this I didn't bargain 
for ! I have been unfaithful to Don in my heart 
— and in my mind, perhaps, — but that's all — 

George. I always felt it, Tess ! 

Teresa. Can't you persuade mother? 

George. Bert could, because he represents 
the outside world. 

Teresa. But you know Bert. He v/ouldn't 
persuade her, unless he believed in me himself. 

Vorhees. That's true, and I'll go talk with 
her now, if Mrs. Rand will see me. 

[He goes toward door. 



THE CITY 615 

Teresa. [Deeply moved, mid grateful.] Thank 
you! 

VoRHEES. That's all right. 

[He goes out, 

Teresa. George, I don't know — but every- 
thing, even Jimmy Cairns, seems so little now, 
in comparison with Cicely — dead, — the bottom 
fallen out of everything ! 

George. Even worse than that, for me. I've 
given up the nomination. 

Teresa. I'm sorry ! Did Bert feel you had to ? 

George. No more than I did. You won't 
have to act a lie for me after all, Tess. 

Teresa. I'm glad ! I know, if Eleanor Vor- 
hees knew I was doing it — 

George. She's going to know it, — and that 
I'm a liar! She's going to know much worse 
things than that! Everybody's going to know 



6i6 THE CITY 

them, I guess ! Father was a crook in business, 
— that's the ugly, unvarnished fact, — and I've 
been a worse one ! But I'd rather she'd learn 
these things from me, — what Hannock hasn't 
already told her — rather than she learned them 
outside. 

Teresa. But George ! George ! ! Don't you 
realize you'll lose her? 

George. Well, I've lost everything else, ex- 
cept — 

Teresa. Except what? 

George. Except that! After all, I don't 
believe, way down at the bottom, I'm not fun- 
damentally straight ! I mean to give myself, 
all by myself, a chance to prove it ! I know there 
are lots of ''good men" who are born crooks. 
I want to see if I'm not a crook who was born 
good ! [Vorhees reenters. 



THE CITY 617 

VoRHEES. It's all right. They've told Mrs. 
Rand she can go in and see Cicely now, and she 
wants you to go with her. 

Teresa. [Holds his hand in her two, for a 
moment.] Thank you ! [She goes out. 

Vorhees. And give me that paper you wrote. 
The sooner we get that off our hands, the better. 

[George takes up the paper and, reading it 
over to himself J goes slowly to Vorhees, and 
gives it to him. 

Vorhees. Too bad, old man, too bad ! But 
it canH be helped. 

George. I know! [Vorhees starts to go.] 
Bert, — Eleanor hasn't come yet ? 

Vorhees. No. Are you sure you want to 
see her, or shall I first — 

George. No, leave it to me ! I'd rather. I 
don't want a loophole, anywhere, for her think- 



6i8 THE CITY 

ing me a coward. I want to make a clean breast 
of it all ! That's what I'm after, — a clean 
breast, no matter what the doing it costs me ! 

VoRHEES. You're right. 

[About to go. Enter Foot. 

Foot. A gentleman for a newspaper, sir. 

George. Will you see him, Bert? 

VoRHEES. Yes. [To Foot.] You refer all the 
reporters to me. You know my address? 

Foot. Yes, sir. 

VoRHEES. [To Foot.] Say no one here can be 
seen. [To George.] I'll see you early to- 
morrow. 

George. Thank you. I'd like your help in 
laying out a plan of action. Of course I shan't 
do anything till after — 

[He hesitates, and raises his head and eyes to 
upstairs. 



THE CITY 619 

VoRHEES. I wouldn't. 

[Goes out. Foot exits. George stands alone 
in the room, a picture of utter dejection, of 
ruin and sorrow, hut with a bulldog look all 
the while, — the look of a man who is licked, 
beaten, but not dead yet. He stands immov- 
able almost — in complete silence. Slowly 
and softly, the door opens. Van Vr.inken 
looks in. He speaks in a sullen, hushed, and 
somewhat awed voice. He is pale ; all 
evidence of drinking and excitement are gone. 
Van Vranken. George? 
George. [In a monotonous voice.] Hello, Don 
— you know ? 

Van Vranken. I just heard. It's true? 
[George, with a set face and stern lips, nods his 
head firmly, still standing. Van Vranken col- 
lapses in a chair.] God ! Poor Cicely ! 



620 THE CITY 

George. Tough, isn't it? 

\With a great sigh. 

Van Vranken. I was having an awful time, 
George, with Mrs. Judly. She was giving it to 
me good for being wilUng to patch it up, tempo- 
rarily, with Tess ! She diduH care about you ! 
I've come to the conclusion she don't care about 
anybody, anyway, but herself. Her brother 
telephoned it from his Club, and she — [his 
anger rises] had the rottenness to say she be- 
lieved there was something between Hannock 
and Cicely. That was more than I could stand 
for ! God knows I'm as bad as they make them, 
but, with that little girl dead like that — to 
think such a thing, let alone say it — I don't 
know ! — It took it out of me, somehow ! It 
didn't seem to me it was the time to have a low 
quarrel between two people like us ! It made 



THE CITY 621 

US seem so beastly small ! Death's such an awful 
— such a big — I suppose I'll feel differently 
to-morrow — but to-day — now — George, I 
couldn't stand for it ! She kicked me out, and I 
give you my word of honor I'm glad she did ! 

George. [Not deeply impressed, but civil.] As 
you say, you'll feel differently to-morrow. 

Van Vranken. Very likely ! Still, I've got 
these few decent hours, anyway, to put on your 
sister's grave. 

[A pause. George sits. 

George. I've given up running for governor. 

Van Vranken. [Surprised.] Because — ? 

George. No. You'll hear all the reasons soon 
enough. The point for the moment is, you and 
Tess needn't fake any further — living together. 

Van Vranken. [Thoughtfully.] I see. [After 
a pause.] George — ? 



62 2 THE CITY 

George. What ? 

Van Vranken. Could I see Cicely? 

George. [Hesitating.] Tess is there. 

Van Vranken. [After a moment.] Then, per- 
haps I'd better not go — ? 

George. I think I would, if I were you. 

[Van Vranken looks at George questioningly. 
Teresa enters. 

Teresa. [Quietly.] Don — 

[Her voice fills; she turns aside, and hastily 
wipes her eyes. 

Van Vranken. [Moved.] I was going up- 
stairs. 

Teresa. Not now ! Mother and I have just 
left. They've come to — 

[She stops, and again turns aside. 

Van Vranken. Where are the children? 

Teresa. Home ! 



THE CITY 623 

Van Vranken. ''Home"? 

[Very meaningly. 

Teresa. At the house. 

Van Vranken. Oh, Tess ! — I'm — I'm not 
fit to take care of them ! You'd better take them 
both, Tess, but let me see them off and on — 

Teresa. I'm going back now with you, Don. 

Van Vranken. You needn't. I take it all 
back, Tess. You can have it your own way 
entirely. Leave Mrs. Judly out of it, — that's 
all I'll ask. Outside that, I'll fix it easy for you. 

Teresa. Thank you, Don, [after a second's 
pause] but, if you don't mind, I'd rather go back 
with you for the present, anyway. It seems to 
me, between us, we've pretty well spoiled every- 
thing except — well, — perhaps, in thinking of 
the children's happiness we might find something 
for ourselves ! What do you say ? 



624 THE CITY 

Van Vranken. It's worth a try — so long 
as you're willing ! 

[Enter Mrs. Rand in a flurry. 

Mrs. Rand. Has any one thought to send for 
a dressmaker? [Nobody answers.] Did you 
think of it, Teresa? 

Teresa. No, I'm afraid I didn't. 

Mrs. Rand. [Her eyes filling.] I haven't the 
remotest idea what's the thing to wear! In 
Middleburg, I'd have known, — but here, I'm 
always wrong ! If I'd had my way, I'd never 
have taken off my crepe veil for your father, 
and now / wish I hadn't I [She sees Don.] Oh ! 
I didn't see you, Don. Have you come to beg 
Tess's pardon? Has this terrible thing reformed 
you? 

Van Vranken. I don't know, mother, how 
much reform is possible, but I came to tell Tess 
I'm ashamed — 



THE CITY 625 

[He and Teresa exchange a look of almost 
sympathy, — at least, all antagonism has gone 
from them. 

Mrs. Rand. I confess, if I were Tess I could 
never forgive you ! Her father spoiled me for 
that sort of thing ! 

George. Tess isn't thinking now only of 
herself. 

Mrs. Rand. Oh, why did we ever come here ! 
That was the first and great mistake ! I haven't 
had a happy moment since I left their father's 
and my old home ! 

Teresa. Mother! Mother!! 

Mrs. Rand. It's the truth, — I haven't ! 
I've never been anything, in New York, but a 
fizzle ! I've been snubbed right and left by the 
people I wanted to know ! I'm lonesome for 
my church, and if I died I w^ouldn't have a hand- 
ful of people at my funeral ! 



626 THE CITY 

George. But you're going to live, mother, 
and you'll see we'll make you happy yet ! 

Mrs. Rand. Not here! You can't do it 
yourself ! Bert says you have given up running 
for governor, and Tess says everything's off 
between you and Eleanor. I don't have to be 
told how disappointed and unhappy you are, 
and Tess's made a miserable mess of it ! And 
now, Cicely, the baby of you all ! — killed, 
like this ! [She breaks down into hysterical sob- 
bing.] It's more than I can bear ! I tell you, 
children, I can't bear it ! And it's all thanks 
to coming here ! ! This is what we get for not 
doing what your father wished. Why didn't we 
stay home? I amounted to something there. 
I had as much sense as my neighbors. I could 
hold my own ! Here, I've been made to under- 
stand I was such a nonentity — that I've grown 



THE CITY 627 

actually to be the fool they believe me ! Oh, 
what the City has done for the whole of us ! 

Teresa. Yes, you're right, mother. I was 
happy too, till I came here. It was the City 
that taught me to make the worst of things, in- 
stead of the best of them. 

George. [Gently.] No, Tess — let's be honest 
with ourselves to-day. After all, it's our own 
fault — 

Van Vranken. I agree with Tess! She and 
I, in a small town, would have been happy al- 
ways ! I'd not have been tempted like I am here 
— I couldn't have had the chances — 

George. [Rising and speaking with the ful- 
ness of conviction.] No! You're all wrong! 
Don't blame the City. It's not her fault! 
It's our own! What the City does is to bring 
out what's strongest in us. If at heart we're 



628 THE CITY 

good, the good in us will win ! If the bad is 
strongest, God help us ! Don't blame the City ! 
She gives the man his opportunity; it is up to 
him what he makes of it ! A man can live in a 
small town all his life, and deceive the w^hole 
place and himself into thinking he's got all the 
virtues, when at heart he's a hypocrite ! But 
the village gives him no chance to find it out, to 
prove it to his fellows — the small town is too 
easy ! But the City ! 1 1 A man goes to the gates 
of the City and knocks ! — New York or Chicago, 
Boston or San Francisco, no matter what city so 
long as it's big, and busy, and selfish, and self- 
centred. And she comes to her gates and takes 
him in, and she stands him in the middle of her 
market place — where Wall Street and Herald 
Square and Fifth Avenue and the Bowery, and 
Harlem, and Forty-second Street all meet, and 
there she strips him naked of all his disguises 



THE CITY 629 

— and all his hypocrisies, — and she paints his 
ambition on her fences, and lights up her sky- 
scrapers with it ! — what he wants to be and 
what he thinks he is I — and then she says to him. 
Make good if you can, or to Hell with you ! 
And what is in him comes out to clothe his naked- 
ness, and to the City he can't lie ! / know, be- 
cause / tried 1 

[A short pause. Foot enters. 

Foot. Miss Vorhees. 

George. Ask her to come in here. 

[Teresa rises quickly. 

Teresa. Don, I think — 

Van Vranken. I've a taxi outside. 

Mrs. Rand. All this time, and that clock 
going on every minute ! 

Teresa. [To Mrs. Rand.] Mother, if you 
want to see us after dinner, telephone. 

[Kisses her. 



630 THE CITY 

Mrs. Rand. What about our clothes? 

Teresa. I'll attend to everything in the 
morning. 

[Teresa and Don go out together. 

Mrs. Rand. I think I'd rather be alone with 
you, George, to-night, if the things are off be- 
tween you and Eleanor. At a time like this, 
there is no excuse for her going back on you — 

George. Hush, mother! You don't under- 
stand. She has every excuse. I'll tell you 
about it afterward. 

Mrs. Rand. No, tell her for me not to stop. 
I wanted her, because I thought she loved you 
— and was to be one of us — that's all ! [Enter 
Eleanor.] Thank you for coming back, Elea- 
nor, but good night. George will explain. 

[She goes out. 

Eleanor. What is the matter with your 



THE CITY 631 

mother? and Teresa? And Bert seemed strange, 
too, when I met him outside. What have I 
done? 

George. Nothing, Eleanor. 

Eleanor. [Realizing what it may mean.] They 
think I believed what Hannock said? That 
anything he would say against yoii could for one 
moment mean anything to 7ne! 

George. You didn't believe Hannock? 

Eleanor. Not for one second ! That's why 
I left the room. 

George. You'd better have stayed. 

Eleanor. Why? 

George. Because he told the truth ! 

Eleanor. How do you mean? 

George. Everything he told me here, this 
afternoon, was true. 

Eleanor. Not when / was here! When I 



632 THE CITY 

was here, he was calling you a thief, and a cheat, 
and a liar ! 

George. He was right ! 

Eleanor. No ! I don't understand you ! 

George. Your brother understands — and 
I've withdrawn my name from the nomination ! 
I'm giving up all the things it seemed to me I 
wanted most, — and you, most of all, Eleanor ! I . 
thought I minded losing the others, but in com- 
parison with what I feel now ! ! ! You loved me 
because I was honest ! 

Eleanor. Not because, — but, of course, if 
you were not J^.onest — • 

George. Well, I'm not — I'm not ! 

Eleanor. You are l I know you are! 

George. No ! I've lied and tricked and 
cheated in business, and I've got to pay for it ! 

Eleanor. And all this you did deliberately? 



THE CITY 633 

George. The only excuse I have, if you can 
call it an excuse, is that I didn't realize what I 
was doing! I did what others I had been 
taught to respect, to pattern on, did before me, 
— what others were doing around me ! I ac- 
cepted cheating for business diplomacy. I ex- 
plained lying as the commercial code ! I looked 
on stealing as legitimate borrowing! But I was 
a grown man, and in possession of my senses, 
and I had no real excuse ! Eleanor, I've been a 
business ^^ crook,'" in a big way, perhaps, but 
still a ''^ crook," and I'm not good enough for 
you I \A pause. 

Eleanor. What are you going to do ? 

. George. Give up all the positions I haven't 

any right to fill. Pay back interest I hadn't 

any right to get, and money I hadn't any right 

to use ! Give up principal I gained on somebody 



634 THE CITY 

else's risk than my own ! Begin all over again 
at the bottom, but on the level, and climb, only 
if I can do it on the square ! 

Eleanor. I understand ! I understand it all, 
now ! You've done wrong ? 

George. Yes. 

Eleanor. Oh, so wrong, but you're owning 
all up, and giving all up ! 

George. Yes. 

Eleanor. You aren't being pressed to? 

George. Of course I could fight it, but what's 
the use ? IV s true ! Now I realize that, I can't 
own up fast enough! I can't begin over again 
soon enough ! I can't eat or sleep or take a long 
breath even, till I'm on the level again with 
myself. Even at the price of you! But I'll 
make you believe in me again, Eleanor, — you'll 
see, if we live long enough ! 



THE CITY 63s 

Eleanor. We don't have to live any longer 
for that. 

George. In what way ? 

Eleanor. The man who has done wrong, and 
can own it up, — face Hfe all over again empty- 
handed, emptying his own hands of his own 
accord, turn his back on everything he counted 
on and lived for, because it is the right thing to 
do, and because — leaving the world out of it — 
he had to he honest with himself I — that — 
George — is the man I look up to ten times more 
than the one who was born good and lived good 
because he never was tempted to enjoy the spoils 
of going wrong ! It's the man whom it costs 
something to be good, — that's what makes real 
character ! And to me — [she goes up to him, and 
puts her hand on his arm] you, here, to-day, 
are twice the man you were yesterday ! You 



636 THE CITY 

needed a test, though we didn't know it ! And 
at the same time we found that out, you had to 
go through it; and thank God, your real self 
has triumphed ! To-day you are the man I 
loved yesterday ! 

George. [Looking away.] Now, I know what 
those people mean who say a man gets all the 
Hell that's coming to him in this world, — [look- 
ing at her] — and all the Heaven, too ! 

THE CURTAIN FALLS 



